


By Twilight Dreams, Rent Asunder

by Astralune



Series: Lightning and Ice [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Aludrassil, Canon Divergence, Depends on what Shadowlands does, F/M, Set during Visions of N'Zoth, Still taking some liberties here, This is possibly going to circle back around into Shadowlands, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astralune/pseuds/Astralune
Summary: With Sylvanas safely locked away, Thrall turns his attentions to the trifling matters of ending the war with the Alliance, and trying to forge the peace he has dreamt of all his life.Jaina Proudmoore turns her attention to trying to extract Sylvanas' secrets while supporting the peace efforts from the Alliance side.N'Zoth has slipped his bonds, and his eldritch schemes will do more than throw a wrench into their respective works - it could spell doom for all of Azeroth.
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Thrall
Series: Lightning and Ice [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690303
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

It was the night after the mak'gora, while the Horde celebrated the return of Thrall as Warchief, that an Old God entered from a violet portal onto the lands of Durotar, wearing Azshara like a coat.

It looked around, senses attuned for anyone who had detected its arrival. Nothing stirred. The barren rocks and sands of Durotar lay empty as they stretched on to the left; the wall of Orgrimmar, to the right, muffled the detested sounds of Azerothian life celebrating within.

In Azshara’s hand, a curved dagger vibrated, as if talking.

“Hush,” the Old God said to the dagger in Azshara’s voice. “Once this twilight’s work is done, you may take this body to do as you will.”

Azshara’s body slithered across the ground, then looked down. “Ugh. This is inefficient.” A hand gestured, and it’s serpentine form altered in a dull purple glow, forming legs and feet.

The dagger made a sound, like movement through rushes.

“This isn’t the ocean, fool. A bipedal form is better suited to this task. Now quiet.” The thing wearing Azshara cast its gaze about, then strode westward. “This way,” it said.

The Old God’s search went undisturbed as the night wore on. The nature of the terrain, with its rocky boulders punctuating the otherwise flat earth, made the search difficult. It was near the stroke of midnight when it found the quarry it sought.

Sylvanas’ physical body had been left here when the animating spirit, defeated and thwarted, had tried to flee. The Old God held out the curved dagger, and scratched an elaborate rune into the dirt of Durotar, centered on the previous Warchief.

“Here, at last, is the prize I have sought,” it rumbled as it drew lines in the dirt. “Stop complaining, Xal’atath. I am _not_ monologuing. Know your place. Serve.” A wave of reluctant acquiescence pulsed from the blade.

The rune completed to its satisfaction, it closed Azshara’s eyes and extended its will. The bars of its cage resisted, shifted to counter its efforts even as it wielded this proxy form, but they were so, _so_ weak. It could almost taste its freedom, after countless millennia in chains.

In the centre, Sylvanas’ body gently rose, tugged by thick purple tentacles of force, until it stood in a rough approximation of upright. Azshara’s form stepped into the circle, and regarded the fallen banshee elf. Mostly intact, it concluded. It would serve.

The thing in Azshara turned its back to Sylvanas’s form, then backed up towards it until the two bodies were touching. It turned to address the curved dagger one last time. “Remember our bargain,” Azshara’s voice trilled. “Serve in this matter, and Azshara is yours.”

The blade gave the distinct impression of anticipatory hunger, and agreement.

Azshara’s hand reversed its grip on the blade’s handle, then guided the tip to rest over Azshara’s heart. With a final, guttural utterance of the black speech, it drove Xal’atath through both Azshara’s and Sylvanas’ hearts.

The blade flashed black and purple, and a dull crack sounded in the otherwise empty desert. The dagger spilled from Azshara’s hands, and clattered to the ground.

The Old God opened Sylvanas’ eyes, and laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

When Thrall finally found Jaina, he gave her a bemused look. “I should have looked here first,” he said, and gestured at the dungeon they’d imprisoned Sylvanas’ spirit in after her defeat and capture.

“Oh, you know me,” Jaina said lightly. “What girl doesn’t love a dark, dusty prison?”

“You don’t,” Thrall said confidently. “But you do like knowledge - the rarer, the better.”

Jaina tilted her head towards him, an acknowledgement he’d hit the mark. “Which is why I am down here, listening to Sylvanas make _terrible_ conversation.”

“This world is a prison,” snarled Sylvanas - or at least, that aspect of her that was not physical, the banshee spirit of her, bound tight to the phylactery and safely behind bars where it could not reach out. “You have cursed us all to imprisonment. What matters _this_ trifling cell? I say it does not.”

Jaina grimaced. “See? I’ve had more stimulating discourse with planks of wood.”

Thrall nodded slowly. “You should not speak of your lecturers from Dalaran so,” he said.

Jaina’s face lit up at him, delighted. “Yes! _That’s_ what I’ve been missing down here.” She turned to Sylvanas. “That sense of humour, that warmth. You had it, once, I’m sure.”

“It was lost, mage,” Sylvanas hissed. “Alongside my innocence, my freedom, and my _life._ ”

“When Arthas slew you?” Thrall asked. He’d heard about it, of course.

“When she powerslid onto Frostmourne,” Jaina corrected. “Not the smartest tactical choice, was it?”

“You could never understand my torment - my _suffering_ \- at the hands of that death knight,” Sylvanas declared.

“I knew a demon hunter who talked like that,” Jaina said.

“I knew a _Naaru_ who talked like that,” Thrall added.

“ _Really?_ ” Jaina asked as she turned to Thrall, her interest piqued. 

“Really,” Thrall confirmed. “You should see the novel she wrote.” He shuddered involuntarily. “Or maybe you shouldn’t.”

“I will see you all _defeated before me!”_ Sylvanas cried from behind her barred prison. Jaina and Thrall turned back to her.

“That,” Jaina said, “was _rude.”_

“And _we_ defeated _you,_ ” Thrall added.

“True,” Jaina agreed. “You’ve done nothing but dole out threats and promises of what you’ll accomplish for weeks down here, but if your plans were so inevitable and your conquest so certain - why did we defeat you?”

Sylvanas scowled at them both, but said nothing.

Jaina waited long moments. “No answer? Well, that’s new.” She turned to Thrall. “Anyway. What brought you down here today?”

Thrall startled. He’d almost forgotten. “I was looking for you, actually,” he said.

“Me?” Jaina replied, delighted. “Why, if you wanted a mid-morning fuck, you should have said so!” Her eyes glinted as she teased him.

Thrall, bless him, blushed, and she was delighted further at the effect she had on him. “Jaina!” he whined. “Not in front of the prisoner!”

“Who, Sylvanas? Maybe it would get her to lighten up,” she said, turning toward the banshee. “How about it? You never took the opportunity to ride an orc while you were busy plotting our demise? I know you never took Nathanos for a spin. He never shuts up about it.”

“He’s locked up two levels up from here,” Thrall added helpfully.

“ _Silence!”_ Sylvanas cried. “This torment is too much to bear. End me, or let me go!”

Thrall ignored her, and turned back to Jaina. “It’s actually mid-afternoon,” he told her. “So I’m afraid some mid-morning sex is off the table.”

“Thrall, mid-morning sex can be on the table if you clear it off first.”

Thrall, not being a slow learner, ignored her, too. “And now the Alliance Ambassador has arrived,” he continued. “There are a thousand arrangements to make for the upcoming peace conference to make, such as where to put the mid-morning sex table and who can use it.”

Jaina grimaced. “Is it that late already?” She glanced towards the banshee. “Time flies when you’re being scorned, I suppose.”

“I was hoping to find you earlier,” Thrall said.

Jaina gasped, delighted. “So you _were_ after a good lay!” she cried. “And now we’re out of time.” She pouted at Thrall. “Can you try to get us seated next to each other at the conference? Failing that, across from each other?”

From her cell, Sylvanas made a noise uncannily like retching, for a discorporeal spirit.

“Of course,” Thrall said, leaning in close to kiss her forehead. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Actually, there is,” Jaina said. “I’m going to have to return to Kul Tiras soon.”

Thrall nodded reluctantly. “Your people have need of you, no doubt,” he said.

“Yes,” Jaina agreed. “We’re still recovering from Azshara’s attack, and the wall you blew up.”

“The wall _I-_ That was in defence of-“ Thrall cut off at the look on her face.

“Got you,” Jaina preened, and made a motion with her hands of reeling in a particularly large fish.

“Bitch,” Thrall said, but it was fondness rather than anger in his tone.

“You love me,” Jaina retorted. “And when I go, I want to take Sylvanas with me.”

Inside her cage, Sylvanas thrashed about. “I will not be treated like an owned object!”

Thrall ignored her. “You want to keep interrogating her? You still think she might be useful?” he asked skeptically.

Jaina nodded. “Her, and Nathanos. I can handle the arrangements for them both to be moved to Kul Tiras, and confined there, so I can continue these delightful conversations.”

Thrall considered for a moment. “Very well. When will you leave?”

Jaina made a face. “Before your meeting ends, I’m afraid - you’ll be tied up here all night. Are you _sure_ you don’t have time for a quick-“

Thrall held up a hand, forestalling her. “As much as I wish - and I do - I’m already late.” He looks at her a long moment, pent-up longing in his eyes. “Until we can find some time.”

“Good luck, Thrall,” she said, as the orc turned and left for his meeting.

Sylvanas hissed from within her prison. “ _Must_ you fawn over him so in front of me?” she demanded.

Jaina glanced at the banshee, scandalised. “What?” she demanded. “Have you _seen_ him? I can’t _not_ fuck him!”

* * *

Three days later, Thrall took advantage of a lunchtime break in yet another meeting about food supply routes to sneak off to his room and pop through his hidden portal, to try to visit Jaina at _her_ place. He stepped through, and called out for her, before stopping short.

It was pitch black.

Rather, it _was_ pitch black, and then it was very well lit by the magic he saw summoned into view, obscuring who was no doubt Jaina, no doubt in bed.

“Thrall?” she asked, and she sounded tired to his ears. The conjured icicles winked out, replaced by the warm glow of a summoned light source. “It’s three in the morning. What are you doing here?”

“It’s three in the- but it was only lunchtime-“ Thrall began.

Jaina sighed. “Time zones, Thrall. You forgot about time zones, again.”

“Oh.” Thrall scratched at his beard in thought. “Time zones, right. I did. I did forget.”

Her expression softened, “I appreciate the visit, and the thought, but I’ve only _been_ asleep for an hour or so, and in the morning Cyrus wants to inspect the Seawall-“

Thrall waved a hand. “Say no more. You need your beauty sleep.”

Jaina smiled. “And I am a beauty,” she said.

Thrall stepped around the bed, and tucked Jaina back in, tugging the blanket snug. “Sweet dreams, my love,” he said, as he bent over to press a gentle kiss to her lips.

Jaina returned the gesture, her eyes fluttering closed. “Good night, my heart,” she said. “Next time, we’ll time it better, and you can join me in here.”

Thrall padded back to the portal, and returned in time to prevent a search party being called to drag him back into a thrilling discussion on farming incentives.

* * *

“That went about as well as could be expected,” Saurfang observed.

Thrall scoffed. “Of course their initial position is total disarmament. Don’t worry, old friend. I won’t let them remove all our teeth.”

The two of them were walking through the Valley of Strength, towards the main gate of Orgrimmar. They were both more tense than the apparent casualness of the walk appeared, though Thrall suspected for different reasons.

“I’m not so hidebound as to claim we need our entire standing forces,” Saurfang continued, as if Thrall had not even spoken. “But we have a, what’s it called. A _cultural identity_. We have that, Thrall. I heard one of the negotiators talking about it. It means they can’t take all our teeth.”

Thrall chuckled, and slapped the old orc on the shoulder. “Hold a moment,” he said, stepping towards a doorway. “Just picking up something.”

Saurfang waited, and after a moment Thrall emerged, with something suspiciously like a woven basket in his hands. It had _cloth_ over it, and it was _patterned_ in red and white. With _check squares._

Ugh.

“Thrall. What is this?” Saurfang asked.

“Hmm?” Thrall said, then looked down at the basket. “Oh. It’s a picnic basket.”

“I can tell, Warchief,” Saurfang said. “What are you _doing_ with it?”

“I’m going for a walk. To Razor Hill,” Thrall said. “I’ll see you when I return.”

Saurfang watched his Warchief leave Orgrimmar, and frowned the whole while.

* * *

When Thrall arrived at Razor Hill, he saw Jaina, leaning against a signpost, half-hidden beneath the azure parasol she was using to keep the sun off her.

“Come here often, stranger?” she called to him.

“No,” Thrall replied. “I’ve been too busy to travel much.”

“That’s a shame,” Jaina said, a smile on her lips. “Perhaps you should come for a walk with me.” She flicked her hand outward, and a portal sliced through the air, green forestry visible on the other side.

“Perhaps I shall,” he said, and stepped through, Jaina hot on his heels.

Thrall blinked against the different light, and looked around. Apparently, she’d picked a hill in Ashenvale for their picnic.

“You like?” she asked, as she took the basket from Thrall’s grasp.

“I do,” Thrall assured her. “I especially like the part where there’s no one else around.”

“That was the hardest part,” Jaina replied, as she shook the blanket out over the hill. “Here, help me lay all this out.”

* * *

“And then he looked at me suspiciously across the table, stabbed a knife down, and demanded of me _but where did the pig go?_ ” Thrall finished, and Jaina laughed. The food had been tasty, and the time together had been wonderful, and blessedly free of their respective duties of state.

“Okay, yours is more absurd, you win,” Jaina said, with a wicked glint in her eye. She reached for him, and bodily rolled herself up over his body until she was straddling him. “Can you guess what you win?” she asked, her fingers toying with the fasteners on his tunic.

“I think I could hazard a guess,” Thrall said, his hands shifting to slide along the curve of her hips. “Is it-” He cut off at the _thwack_ that sounded, and the sudden appearance of an elven arrow in the ground next to them.

“The _fuck-”_ Jaina exclaimed, and thrust her hand out, the telltale flicker of a magic barrier forming around them.

“There,” Thrall said, pointing behind her at the Kaldorei sentinel who was now running towards them.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jaina demanded in a commanding voice as she turned to the oncoming guard, who for her part had skidded to a stop in shock.

“The Lady Proudmoore,” the sentinel gasped. “M-my apologies, no-one informed us of your visit. I was patrolling, a-and saw someone here, and-”

Jaina sighed, and dropped the shield. “It’s alright,” she said, though clearly it was anything but. “Just… carry on with your patrol.”

Beside Thrall, a crystal rod buzzed for attention. He glanced at it and made a face. “Saurfang,” he said softly. “I probably should get that,” he said with great reluctance.

Jaina scowled, and stood up, letting Thrall grab the rod. She turned to the sentinel. “Well?”

“I’m sorry, my Lady, but I will have to note you were here in my report, when I get back. For record-keeping, not because you’re not allowed, o-or-”

“Jaina,” Thrall interrupted. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to go take care of this.” He held up the rod for emphasis, looking sorrier than he sounded.

Jaina sighed. “It- it’s fine,” she said. “But next time, I am going to _ravish_ you, do you hear?”

Thrall nodded enthusiastically. “Spirits, I hope so,” he swore.

Jaina spun one hand to cast a portal back to Durotar, and turned to glare at the sentinel, who was trying to carefully back away. “And you can put _that_ in your report too!” she yelled at the retreating night elf.

* * *

Thrall sat at a grand table in Grommash Hold, his advisers and chief councillors sitting around the entire circumference, easily a dozen in number. They’d been working through some of the thornier issues that needed resolving for this upcoming peace conference, paving the way for the meeting proper. It had been a long day, but a productive one.

And then, the heavy doors into the hold had slammed open as if a pair of ogres had beaten it down, and in strode the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras in full regalia. She marched up to where they sat, guards chasing behind in her wake, and thrust her staff across the table at Thrall threateningly.

“Warchief Thrall,” she declared, her voice a storm of fury. “I have come in the name of the city-state of Kul Tiras to _demand_ satisfaction for the _criminal_ acts of aggression by your people against mine!”

Thrall was in shock. “Jai- Lord Admiral,” he began. “I am not aware of any acts committed by the Horde or its people against yours. Perhaps-”

“You know _damn well_ what you and yours have done,” Jaina snarled loud enough to be heard by everyone. The guards who had chased her in were now trying to edge out of the room the way they came. “I _insist_ on restitution!”

Thrall gathered his scattered wits. “Lord Admiral, I am sorry, but I do not know what you could be referring to.” A sudden thought occurred to him, and his puzzled expression cleared. “Perhaps if you could tell me what it is we’ve supposedly done-”

“ _Supposedly!?_ ” she cried. “I will do one better, Warchief. You will _see_ , with your own eyes!” Jaina thrust her hand out to the side, and a portal formed, Kul Tiras clearly visible through it. “You will come and see,” she declared.

Thrall glanced at those sitting around the table. Not a one seemed uncowed by this display of righteous fury. Not even Saurfang, who shot a look of concern at his Warchief. “Perhaps, if we arrange a time to-”

“No! You will come _now!_ ” Jaina insisted, and jabbed her staff toward him, where it poked him hard in the chest.

Thrall held his hands up in a gesture of capitulation. “Very well,” he said gravely. “You have all heard the Lord Admiral’s claim. For the sake of our diplomatic relations, I will go immediately. We can resume this tomorrow morning-”

“Afternoon,” Jaina whispered, so only Thrall could hear.

“-tomorrow afternoon,” Thrall corrected. “By which time I will have resolved this matter.”

His advisors and chief councillors all nodded eagerly, clearly hoping to get away from the angry mage as soon as possible. Thrall stood, circled the table, and stepped through the portal.

Jaina followed, and the portal collapsed behind her, as she collapsed into laughter. “Oh, Thrall,” she said through ragged breaths. “The looks on their faces!”

“I admit, it took me a moment or three to figure out what you were up to,” Thrall said, as he finally let himself smile. They’d emerged from the portal onto the balcony of her bedrooms in Proudmoore Keep, away from prying eyes and interruptions.

“The things I do for love,” Jaina said fondly, and strode toward him with the same purpose she demonstrated in the Hold. She leaned into him, and kissed him fiercely.

Thrall wrapped his arms around her, tugged her close, and returned her kiss with fervour until they were both left breathless. “Is the door-” he panted.

“Barred,” Jaina confirmed breathlessly. “They all think I’ve been summoned early to the conference. We have all night.” She gave him a hungry look, up and down, and her fingers reached for his clothes. “I might just _rip_ these from you if I have to wait any longer.”

For his part, Thrall reached for her corset, and struggled with the fasteners until Jaina snapped her fingers impatiently, and they magicked themselves loose. “One day I’ll learn how to do that,” he muttered, his attention turned to sliding her dress from her shoulders.

“To loosen my corset, or how to make ladies strip with a snap of your fingers?” Jaina asked, as she tugged his trousers to fall around his ankles. “Because if you want to learn the latter, I might have something to say-” She was cut off as Thrall kissed her again. Her dress fell to the floor, leaving her in her stockings and garters as his tongue pressed against her lips.

Her fingers curled in the fabric of his tunic, and tore the garment apart, bodily ripping it from him before pressing her body up against his, feeling his warmth and closeness before the kiss broke off.

“I liked that shirt,” Thrall complained, as his hands moved to cup her ass.

“Not as much as I like your cock,” Jaina retorted, and rolled her hips against his body, feeling him growing hard. “Take us to the bed, would you? I think I promised to _ravish_ you, and I am a woman of my _word._ ”

Thrall grinned, hefted her with his hands as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and carried her to the large bed inside.


	3. Chapter 3

“How are the peace conference plans going?” Jaina asked Thrall, as she fastened up her corset. It was the next day, well into the afternoon, and the two of them had spent very little of the time sleeping. Her hair was wet from the shower, and wrapped up in a towel.

“It’s almost all done,” Thrall said, doing up his pants. “Didn’t you hear about it from your side of the faction divide?”

Jaina made a face. “Not as often as I’d like. Kul Tiras is a little out of the way, and no one’s come to visit. It’s been lonely out here - couldn’t you tell?” She favoured him with a wicked grin.

“Oh, I could, from how you did that thing with-”

“Mmmhmm,” Jaina said smugly.

“I… am not complaining,” Thrall said. “As for the conference, it’s being held in Aludrassil. It’s the closest thing we could find to neutral territory with enough civilization for everyone.”

“A Goblin town didn’t take anyone’s fancy?” Jaina asked, as she raised an eyebrow. 

“Their neutrality is under suspicion after everything Gallywix has done,” Thrall shrugged. “Aludrassil is what everyone could agree on.”

Jaina nodded. “And the initial concerns?”

“Disarmament, for one,” Thrall said with a sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Jaina came over and sat down beside him, taking his hand in hers. “On both sides, though the emphasis is on the Horde as-” Thrall grimaced. “-the aggressors.”

Jaina squeezed his hand sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Thrall,” she said, looking into his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Thrall assured her. “They’re  _ right, _ to call us aggressors. We were. We invaded Darkshore. We burnt down Teldrassil. We instigated this war, and the consequences are ours to bear, even if I was not the one issuing orders.” He sighed. “So, disarmament. Common patrols along our borders - oh, I have to recognise Aludrassil as uncontested foreign territory, as part of an earlier commitment.”

“Hmm?” Jaina blinked in thought. “Oh, Nozari. Right.” She’d offered support in taking down Sylvanas - and in exchange, asked for recognition of the sovereignty of Aludrassil.

“Yes,” Thrall said. “We’ve also agreed to the usual things - temporary cease fire, in-principle agreement to discuss open trade, a promise not to murder anyone at the conference.” He shrugged. “The rest is all up in the air and on the table for discussion.

“Sounds like what I expected,” Jaina said.

“Speaking of expectations, I had some questions, if I may,”

Jaina looked at him inquisitively. “Shoot,” she said.

“Well, like you said - expectations,” Thrall began. “We… don’t really  _ have  _ any of the Alliance party - we don’t know who they’re going to specifically be. I know what we, the Horde, want from this process. What does the Alliance want? What agendas are coming to the conference?

Jaina shrugged. “Mostly, the same as you - Peace.” She turned to look at him more directly. “This war has been costly, Thrall. All of them, really - it feels like we haven’t had a month without conflict for a decade or more. The costs to our society is extreme, and not just in coin - farmers, clothmakers, all the other professions we rely on have been thinned out by rallying cry after rallying cry for footmen and soldiers. We need time, Thrall - time to heal, time to recover, time to relearn how to exist when we aren’t holding swords. Peace is the best way forward - the  _ only _ way forward, before we lose everything.”

Thrall considered her words for a long moment. “Do all in the Alliance feel this way?” he asked.

Jaina grimaced. “Probably not Genn. I’ve heard Tyrande has been angry about something of late - she had some meetings with Anduin that I gather didn’t go well - maybe she’ll carry that anger into this? It’s hard to say. King Anduin, I’m sure, feels as I do. I have less of a read on the others.”

Thrall nodded thoughtfully. “For our part, I am committed - the Horde is committed - to this path. You know as well as anyone that Baine is with us. Talanji took some persuading, but even she has seen the truth of the need for us to lay down arms.”

“Then we have nothing to worry about,” Jaina said breezily. “Why, it’s practically a done deal.”

Thrall looked at her suspiciously.

“Okay, fine,” she conceded. “I don’t  _ actually _ think it will be that easy. But I think everything that can be reasonably done, has been done, until the conference itself. So there’s no point worrying needlessly about everything that’s out of our control.”

“You’re right,” Thrall conceded. “And it’s only a few days more.”

Jaina smiled slyly. “In which case, surely you have time to take me out somewhere nice for dinner?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Thrall replied. “Though you may wish to finish dressing first. Not for my benefit, thought.”

It was worth her whipping him with the towel.

* * *

The locale for the conference in Aludrassil turned out to be a large, open-air room, surrounded by an arc of trees that reached gracefully skyward before bending towards the centre, shading a large circular table set upon a neatly tended field of lush, soft grass. Nearly two dozen seats - made of lumber that looked to have grown that way, rather than having been hewn and carved - were spaced equidistantly around the circumference.

Thrall entered unaccompanied - Jaina, his preference for a companion, was obliged to enter with the Alliance contingent - with Saurfang, Talanji, and Baine following. A few senior attendants and chief advisors followed further back. As he entered the conference area, he saw that King Anduin had arrived before him, as had Genn, Tyrande, and some Draenei that Thrall did not immediately recognise. He turned to the gathered Horde representatives who had followed him, and gestured for them to settle themselves.

Immediately several small groups broke off, chattering animatedly amongst themselves. One or two sought out counterparts from the Alliance contingent, circling around the table as quickly as they could while still being polite. Thrall waited for the flurry of movement around him to die down, then turned his attention to the table, and allowed his thoughts to begin to gather.

“Interesting, is it not?” a voice asked him, soft yet firm. Thrall looked up, startled. It was the young king - Anduin Wrynn.

“King Anduin,” Thrall greeted him. “How do you mean, interesting?”

Anduin smiled, and gestured with a hand around them. “This, Warchief. The events that have led us here. That have, at long last, brought us to this place, this world tree, this table, with the objective that - I believe - we have both sought for long, long years.”

Thrall found himself nodding in agreement. “Peace between the Horde and the Alliance,” he said.

“Peace,” Anduin repeated. “An end to meaningless conflict. I want you to know that if it is genuine, I wish for it with all my heart.”

“Really,” Thrall asked, as he raised an eyebrow. “Do all in the Alliance feel this way?”

Anduin made a face. “Most. There will, I’m afraid, be some haggling involved - but that’s what the conference is for.”

“It would help to have a better idea of what opposition your side would bring to bear,” Thrall pressed. “If you could-”

“My pardon, Warchief,” Anduin interrupted, holding up a hand. “I see that Lady Proudmoore has arrived. I would speak with her regarding an internal matter before we begin.” He nodded a polite withdrawal, and left to speak with Jaina, who Thrall could see had, in fact, just arrived.

As he looked around, one of the odd Draenei present - she was Lightforged, he could see from here - looked at him, and caught his gaze. She broke off from her group, and circled gracefully around the table to approach him. Thrall braced himself - Draenei were often  _ angry _ with Orcs.

“Warchief Thrall,” she began, in the strange lilt that Draenei often had. “I am Archmage Y’mera, of the Vindicaar.”

“The Vindicaar?” Thrall asked, as he tried to place the name. “Ah. The space-faring vessel. Of course. Are you representing your ship at these talks?”

The archmage nodded. “Her, and the Lightforged themselves. We are, now, a part of this world.” She gestured with a hand. “We also have a special interest in Aludrassil.”

“It  _ is _ an intriguing place,” Thrall said. “As best as we’ve been able to determine, it just sprang out of nowhere one day. I’ve consulted Mulgore’s finest druids, and none of them know how such a tree came to be in so short a timespan-” Thrall broke off. “Have I said something amusing?”

“No,” Y’mera said, clearly amused. “I misspoke. My apologies. The creation of Aludrassil is no great mystery to me - you see, I was there for it.”

“You were-” Thrall cut himself off. “I would be  _ most _ interested in hearing that story, Archmage.”

Y’mera sobered quickly. “We shall see, Warchief Thrall of the Horde,” she replied carefully. “You will have to make it through this conference, first.”

Thrall frowned. “You think something will go wrong?”

Y’mera considered. “I should not say much.” She looked off into the distance, then back to Thrall. “I gather that Genn of Gilneas, and Tyrande of the Kaldorei harbour a great fury at the Horde. They have argued with passion against this conference in private.”

“Really,” Thrall mused. “I wish I could say it surprised me that some want the conflict to continue.”

“I did not say that,” Y’mera clarified. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, they bring a storm for you to weather.”

Thrall squared his shoulders. “Then we shall weather it,” he said.

Y’mera looked at him critically, and Thrall felt like he was being sized up. “Perhaps,” she said. “If you do, ask me of Aludrassil again.” She nodded. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Warchief.”

“And you, Archmage Y’mera,” Thrall replied as she returned to the Alliance side of the table. As he watched her walk, he noted the arrival of the remainder of the Alliance delegation - Velen and some dwarves, presumably the council he had heard ruled in Ironforge now. He couldn’t help but notice there were more on the Alliance side than on his own.

Before he could follow his thoughts any further, a loud owl hoot sounded through the room. One of Aludrassil’s ruling Council, dressed in elaborate robes of more shades of blue than Thrall previously believed existed, sat at the table, positioned between the two factions’ contingents. “Aludrassil welcomes you to this conference,” she said, her hands held out toward them all. “You may address me as ‘Arbiter’, for I shall serve as such here. Please, sit,” she entreated them. “Sit, and let us begin.”


	4. Chapter 4

“The ceasefire has held,” Saurfang said across the table. “I don’t see why we have to do anything more about it.”

“Because, High Overlord,” Anduin began, “in the past decade the Horde has, on two separate occasions, embarked on a military campaign of conquest, primarily targeting Alliance territory and towns.” He spread his hands before himself. “I don’t mean to accuse. The fact remains that historically, the Horde have been the aggressors. Some reassurance that, should an authority figure have a flash of inspiration and decide to launch the Horde on _another_ attempt to conquer Azeroth, that the Horde would _not_ , militarily speaking, be _able_ to do so would be welcome.”

Thrall nodded. “We understand your concerns, King Anduin. For us, it would be a matter of _calibration._ The Horde prides itself on a certain independence, a level of ruggedness and self-reliance. The ability to defend ourselves against a harsh world is part of the core of what makes us who we are.”

“Well said!” Saurfang cried, and slapped Thrall on the back. “We will not be _weak_.”

“We aren’t asking for your weakness,” Jaina said from across the table. 

Thrall felt some small relief wash through him. The two of them had discussed some of the more likely issues that would arise, during what few early hours of thier mornings together hadn’t been spent on sleep and sex. The matter of disarmament had certainly been one of them.

“We recognise the need for communal defense, especially given some of the more untamed areas of Kalimdor,” Jaina continued. “However, defence can be provided for without the materiel stockpiles and armaments required for conquest on a massive scale.”

Saurfang settled back into his seat. “You would take our fangs, but leave us our teeth,” he said. “It… might work.”

“The details would have to be worked out, but I think we can provide in-principle agreement,” Thrall said, as he considered. “Can I assume the Alliance will disarm, as well?”

Anduin coughed politely. “To a degree,” he said. “To be honest, Warchief, the Alliance cannot afford to field so large a military any longer. The last decade has taken its toll, and some of our territories have had over a dozen militias raised - and then razed - over that timeframe. Bluntly, we can’t raise an army for conquest either, and won’t be in a position to do so for many years - by which time, I hope to have enjoyed many years of peace between us to facilitate further negotiations. We propose the maintenance of our borders, and a force sufficient to do so - as, I am sure, you will demand for the Horde when we work out the details - but little more than that.” At his side, Genn bristled visibly, but stayed silent.

Thrall considered, and glanced at his advisors. “That seems reasonable. I cannot deny that the Horde have instigated conflict in the past. I understand that trust in the Horde is… not robust, at this time. I will work to fix that. You have my word.”

The Alliance side of the table murmured amongst themselves. “In-Principle agreement, then,” the Arbiter said. “I believe trade is next on the agenda?”

Thrall squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he agreed. “Trade. Obviously the conflict has severed trade between our two factions. In the aftermath of the war, the Horde finds itself in a position where we need to rebuild.”

Anduin nodded. “As I noted earlier, the Alliance is also in a position where extensive reconstruction is needed - of our cities, our people, our economies. Our information indicates this will take us many, many years - especially if, unlike my father, we want to _pay_ people for their work.” He made a face. “Regardless, if your hope is that we have much to spare, I fear I must disappoint you.”

“Why should we help you, when we have our own to look after?” Genn snarled, the words shot like a canon across a bow.

Thrall held up a hand. “I am not asking for charity,” he said. “Indeed, some among us would refuse it. I do mean _trade._ The Horde is not in much better a state than you describe.”

“Our farmlands have provided limited yields for some time,” Baine said. “The military campaigns have limited our ability to properly tend to our fields.”

“Warchief, should you be telling-” Talanji interrupted.

“Honesty, Queen Talanji. It is the building block of what we’re doing here.” Thrall turned back to the table. “We have hidden it better, perhaps. But the Horde is also in need of time to rebuild the infrastructure of civilisation. All the catapults in the world do not feed our children.”

Tyrande stirred at Thrall’s words, but said nothing. She did not appear pleased, to Thrall’s eyes.

“To that end, I would like to table an intention to reopen trade between our factions,” Thrall continued. “We have some resources in abundance. We are lacking in others. My hope is that our lists are not the same, and we can each provide what the other is lacking, for fair prices and with sensible taxes.”

“Taxes?” Genn scoffed.

“Hold, Genn,” Anduin said. “All that infrastructure both sides need to rebuild comes at a cost. And it would allow both sides to favour any goods that can be produced at home, while providing for the items that cannot.” Anduin glanced at his advisors. Thrall saw Jaina give a tiny nod, though he could not see any sign from Genn or Tyrande. Perhaps he simply missed it. “Very well,” Anduin said. ‘In-Principle agreement, details to be worked out later?”

“In-Principle agreement,” Thrall repeated, and looked to the Arbiter.

“Very well,” the Arbiter said. “And next-”

“Speaking of trade,” Genn interrupted, as he slammed his fist upon the table. “We want Sylvanas.” He snarled the words.

Thrall blinked, not expecting the demand. “I- We-”

“Do you _deny_ that you have her?” Genn insisted, as Anduin placed a placating hand on his arm.

“N… no, I do not deny that after her defeat in the mak’gora, Sylvanas was imprisoned - or, at least, her spirit was. We were able-”

“I don’t _care_ about the _how,_ only that you _have her_ and _I want her!_ ” Genn roared.

“Genn!” Anduin cried out. “Please. Let me handle this.” He waited until Genn settled into his chair. “Warchief Thrall. We _were_ going to bring this up later in the discussion, but… yes, it cannot be denied that there is a strong feeling within the Alliance - that it is our position - that, as then-Warchief of the Horde, that if it is at all possible for Sylvanas Windrunner to be delivered to us, that she _is_ , so that she can face justice.”

“Justice?” Saurfang asked. “ _Alliance_ justice? I have been in your jails. They are soft.”

Thrall shot Saurfang a quieting glance. “As I was saying, King Anduin, we did imprison Sylvanas. She was, however, not forthcoming with any useful intelligence during her time with us-”

“Did you _torture_ her, barbarian?” Tyrande hissed, her eyes full of fury.

“Give her to me,” Genn snarled. “I will _rip_ the answers from her!”

Thrall looked up the table, toward the Arbiter. She raised a hand, and a soundless burst of blue light formed in the centre of the table, overhead. Into the ensuring silence she spoke. “If you’ll allow the Warchief to finish,” she said with mild reproachment.

“Thank you, Arbiter,” Thrall said with a nod. “She was not forthcoming, so…” Thrall glanced around the table. He wasn’t sure how this news would be taken. “... so we transferred Sylvanas into the custody of the Lady Jaina Proudmoore, who has-”

“ _Jaina_ has her?” Genn roared, and turned to face the mage in question. “You will hand her over!”

Jaina folded her arms and glared Genn down. “I’ll do nothing of the sort, Genn. I’ll get the answers we seek from her, and then-” She glanced at Thrall, saw a microscopic nod. “Then I will deliver the former Warchief into King Anduin’s custody. Not yours. This is not a time for vengeance.”

“We will talk later, girl,” Genn snarled.

“I’m sure we will,” Jaina said with steel in her voice.

Saurfang, meanwhile, took the opportunity to lean towards Thrall so he could whisper. “Did you… really hand Sylvanas over to Jaina Proudmoore?” he asked with a frown.

“Yes,” Thrall whispered back, too quiet to be overheard. “We were getting nowhere with Sylvanas in the dungeons. I thought another approach was required.

Saurfang considered, then nodded. “Alright. I trust your judgement in that, Thrall. But…”

Thrall waited. “But _what,_ Varok?” he prodded.

“Why did you give her to _Jaina Proudmoore?_ ”

Thrall blinked. “She’s the smartest person I know,” he said, nonplussed.

Saurfang gave him an exasperated look. “Thrall-”

From across the table, Anduin interrupted. Saurfang sat up straight, and Thrall tried his best not to feel like a child caught off-task during classes. “Is that acceptable to you, Warchief? For Sylvanas to be delivered, once Jaina has her answers, into my custody, so she can be seen to receive justice?”

Thrall nodded. “It is. You have my agreement.”

The Arbiter stirred. “It is so noted,” she said. “Next on the agenda is… sovereignty and territorial disputes.”

Thrall nodded. “First, I must address a prior debt. The Horde would act in support of a confirmation of the independent sovereignty of Aludrassil, consisting of the tree itself, Fenris Isle on which it rests, and Lordamere Lake in which it resides.”

From across the table, Jaina smirked.

Anduin nodded. “The Alliance does not object to this confirmation. If the Aludrassil Council wishes a similar confirmation from us, I would willingly provide it.”

The Arbiter smiled. “I will raise it at the next council meeting, but I believe they will request it. Just so everything’s official.”

“Excellent,” Anduin said, and turned back to Thrall. “The Alliance would ask that the Horde officially recognise Kul Tiras as Alliance soil, and that it receives all the benefits and protections that implies.”

“Done,” Thrall said. “And in turn we would ask that the Alliance officially recognise Zandalar as Horde Territory. And that you release any and all Zandalari prisoners from your stockades.”

“I’m not entirely sure why we locked any up in the first place,” Anduin said. “Agreed.”

Thrall took a deep breath. “I suppose that brings us to thornier issues. The cities of Lordaeron and Teldrassil, both of which-”

“Both of which _what_ , Warchief Thrall?” Tyrande interrupted, as furious as before. “Both of which your precious Horde burnt to ash and salted the grounds? What are you going to do about them?” She stood from her seat, commanding attention. “Your Horde _annihilated_ my people, _scoured_ their _home_ and _put them to the_ **_flame!_ ** Mothers, daughters, sisters, children - torched within their homes! What can you _do_ for them, Warchief Thrall?” Her voice curdled with scorn. “You think to _make up for it_ , perhaps? Somehow _undo_ what yours have done? Or perhaps you think to _sweep it under the rug!_ ” She reached behind her back, and pulled out a curved elven dagger.

“Tyrande, don’t-” Anduin began.

Saurfang threw an arm across Thrall, preparing to shove him back.

Tyrande held her other hand out palm up, and drew the dagger across it in a swift motion before turning her cut hand palm down, two feet above the table surface.

“Dead,” she said, as a blood drop hit the tabletop.

“Dead,” she repeated, as another drop fell.

“Dead. Dead. Dead. _Dead. Dead._ **_Dead!_ ** ” she cried as the blood drops fell. “How do you propose making it up to our _murdered_ kin!? Anu’dorini Talah!” she spat, as if issuing a challenge, and pointed her dagger right at Thrall’s heart.


	5. Chapter 5

Thrall looked at Tyrande calmly across the table. “I can’t make it up to them,” he said.

“Then  _ why are we here? _ ” Tyrande bit out the words.

“What was done to Teldrassil was an atrocity. It was a war crime - and yes, we will agree to call it such,” he added as an aside to Anduin. “I do not expect it to be forgotten. I do not expect forgiveness for what we, the Horde, did to you and your people. I can’t undo it. All I can tell you is that the Horde will do better. Each day, we will try to do better  _ today _ than we did  _ yesterday. _ ”

Thrall looked at all the Alliance members across the table. “It isn’t enough. It could never  _ be _ enough. But it  _ is _ what I  _ can _ give you: the promise that  _ we will do better. _ ”

Tyrande stared daggers at him, though she had lowered the actual dagger as he spoke.

Anduin reached out and put a hand on Tyrande’s shoulder. “Tyrande. Please.”

Tyrande did not look at the King, but she did seem to pull back, if unhappily.

“We appreciate your statement, Warchief Thrall,” Anduin said. “We eagerly look forward to seeing the Horde put action to your words. This is a… sore topic, for all of us, I think.”

Thrall nodded, and glanced at Talanji and Saurfang. “It is not easy,” he agreed. “But that does not mean it is not right.” He straightened his shoulders. “To that end, I would propose that the Horde relinquishes any claim on Teldrassil, and return it to the Alliance, and the Night Elves.”

“We don’t want it,” Tyrande hissed. “How could we go back, knowing what you did there?”

“The Alliance accepts this proposal,” Anduin said. “Though I understand the Night Elves have dispersed through Alliance lands - and many have chosen Aludrassil itself as their new home - and may not return, I would still have its fate in our hands.”

Thrall nodded. “As for the city of Lordaeron..” He shrugged. “It is useless now, to both of us. As High Priestess Tyrande said, Sylvanas salted the earth as she retreated.”

“And then I shot it up,” Jaina muttered pridefully. “With twenty-four cannons.”

Anduin nodded. “As you say - the City of Lordaeron is similarly useless to us now, with the land as it is. However, if that changes in the future, we would like to reopen a discussion about its ownership at that time.”

“Agreed,” Thrall said. “I would also request that our respective borders be generally recognised as they are now.”

Anduin considered a few moments. “Excluding the territory of Gilneas - we should discuss that in detail later - that should be fine. We will, of course, patrol our borders, as we would expect you to.”

“A suggestion, if I may?” Thrall asked. “Combined patrols. Not all of them, and not everywhere, but I think there would be an advantage in having some patrols conducted by Horde forces and Alliance guardsmen together.”

“We  _ do _ need to find ways to ease our peoples into co-existing,” Jaina murmured.

Anduin nodded. “And this could be a start. Agreed, then.”

“So noted,” the Arbiter said. “It has been several hours, and it has gotten late. Shall we adjourn for the evening?”

Anduin blinked. “So it has. The Alliance assents.”

Thrall nodded. “The Horde agrees. We can resume on a later date. We have much to arrange on the already agreed matters.”

“Until then.” Anduin looked at his advisors and fellow rulers, and they rose from their seats and filed out from the room. Genn and Tyrande spared a fierce glare for Thrall on the way out. Jaina flashed him an encouraging smile before she left.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Thrall said. “Thoughts?”

“That could have gone better, too,” Talanji said.

Saurfang frowned. “I don’t like that Tyrande tried to kill you.”

Thrall grimaced. “No she didn’t.”

“Yes, she did. I was there Thrall, she pulled a dagger-”

“She was expressing her fury and grief at what we did to her,” Thrall countered. “She is entitled to her anger.”

“I still don’t like it,” Saurfang grumped. “You’re distracted.”

“My focus is fine,” Thrall said. “I handled Tyrande’s attack as well as could be expected.”

“Not what I meant,” Saurfang groused. “So you admit it was an attack?”

“Varok,” Thrall warned him, as he grew annoyed. “I don’t-”

“I wonder,” Talanji interrupted. “If we are getting a fair deal here. We seem to be giving up more than the Alliance is.”

Thrall sighed. “Neither we nor the Alliance have much left to give. King Anduin was more honest than I expected -  _ both _ of us need time to rebuild after a decade of war and threats to all of Azeroth. And it cannot be denied that the Horde instigated this most recent conflict.” He rubbed his forehead. “I used to dream of this day, you know - back when I was younger. Of a lasting peace between our peoples.”

“Here we go again,” Saurfang said as he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” Thrall said cheerfully. “Durotar was new, then. Orgrimmar was new, smaller. And over in Dustwallow Marsh was Theramore, a human settlement, and we managed not to kill each other on sight.”

“Not for lack of trying by some!” Saurfang put in helpfully.

“Stop helping,” Thrall groused. “An end to needless conflict between us is worth it. One way or another, we’ve barely gone a year since we arrived on Azeroth without losing our sons and brothers to war. I  _ want _ to see that day, that year, where we aren’t fighting each other.”

Talanji looked at him closely, then nodded. “Very well.” She looked over to where the Alliance party had sat. “I think you might just get this dream of yours, if today is any indication. Yes, the Gilnean, and the Kaldorei don’t like it, but it does not seem they have their King’s ear this day.”

Thrall yawned. “It’s been a long day. We should try to get some sleep.” He stood, and they left the conference room.

As they reached the street, Saurfang pulled Thrall back, a hand on his arm. “A moment, Warchief,” he murmured as Talanji went on ahead.

“Hmm? What’s the problem, Varok?” Thrall asked.

“There’s a sensitive issue that’s come up,” Saurfang said, and he scowled.

“Well?” Thrall prodded. “Tell me.”

Saurfang shook his head. “Not now. Tomorrow morning, an hour after sunrise. Meet me in the park on the corner of the block where we’re staying.”

“Come on, Varok,” Thrall growled. “Why all the cloak-and-dagger secrecy? Just tell me.”

Saurfang shook his head more stubbornly this time. “No. Trust me on this, Warchief. Tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.” He let go of Thrall’s arm. “And your mention of daggers reminds me. I’m putting some extra guards on your room tonight.”

Thrall sighed. “That’s not necessary-” he began.

“That’s not your decision to make,” Saurfang spoke over him. “It’s mine. Tyrande tried to attack you tonight - your words. You’ll have the extra guards, and they’ll check on you twice as often.”

Thrall glared at Saurfang. “Fine,” he grated. That blew up his plans to sneak off to the Alliance compound and stay up far too late, naked and sharing Jaina’s bed. “You can place your extra guards, and I will see you in the morning. But, Varok.” He held up a finger to emphasise his point. “This had better be worth it.”

“Yes, Warchief,” Saurfang said. They walked in silence the rest of the way to Thrall’s rooms, at which point Saurfang left to find some extra grunts in need of a guard shift to straighten them out.

“Bastard,” Thrall muttered under his breath, once he was alone. Now he was going to have to spend the night alone - well, nearly alone. The grunts, alas, were no substitute for having Jaina there. He desperately wanted to discuss the day’s events with her, to have her help pick apart their nuances and consequences, and then to have screaming hot sex with her until they were both exhaused. Instead, he has  _ this. _

Feeling lonelier than he’d like, Thrall prepared himself for bed. Sleep was a long time coming.


	6. Interlude

The sky held a cold, blue-white sunset the evening that an Old God climbed the lonely snow-drenched steps of Icecrown Citadel, wearing Sylvanas like a coat.

It took the steps methodically, ignoring how the icy wind whipped its hair around, worked its way through the seams in its armour and abraded its skin. Its attention was on the ascent, and the entity that resided at the peak of this desolate place.

An entity that stirred as it sensed the Old God approaching the summit.

The thing inside Sylvanas strode lithely onto the plateau, senses attuned for the one who had detected its arrival. Nothing stirred. The snowdrifts bled snow gently as the biting cold wind shifted. Ahead, the final steps climbed toward the Frozen Throne.

Its occupant stood when he saw the Old God, and began to descend the stairs. The Old God stepped forward with Sylvanas’ body, until the two approached the centre of the frozen plateau.

“Icecrown,” the Old God purred in Sylvanas’ voice. “A monument to mortal suffering.” An arm drew an artful arc, gesturing across the icy arena. “The veil between life and death, where an usurper sits on a frozen throne.”

The Lich King tilted his head. “Usurper?” His voice was crumbled granite, implacable.

“You do not,  _ can _ not comprehend the scope of the powers you clumsily hold,” it said. “You are unfit to wear that crown.” Sylvanas’ body looked him up and down dismissively. “I will wield this power.” The thing occupying Sylvanas pulled its bow, the curved limbs coalescing from purple-tinged charcoal smoke, and fired a volley of arrows that bounced off the Lich King’s breastplate.

The Lich King roared, and swung his silvered axe around, in an attempt to strike the Old God down. Sylvanas’ form backflipped into a powerslide away from the strike, which broke the icy ground and radiated cracks all around.

The Old God stared daggers at the Lich King, as he raised a hand. Ice blue magic pulsed in his hand, and a sudden blizzard of snow and sleet whipped up around what was once the body of the Warchief of the horde. It looked left and right, seeking its target amid the storm.

The Lich King’s axe swung suddenly for its head, and it ducked adroitfully beneath its arc. The axe swung again from the teeth of the storm, but this time it struck forward, grasped it by the handle, and arrested its movement. It pulsed a burst of its will down the haft, and the raging storm stilled, as suddenly as it had begun.

Then, the axe shattered, breaking into razor shards that clattered to the icy ground. Purple tentacles, smeared with ichor, burst from the ground, reached for the Lich King, and pulled him to his knees. Held him immobile.

The thing that wore Sylvanas stepped close, an expression of sneering victory that would not have been out of place on the previous owner of the body.

The Lich King cried out in fury as he strained against the eldritch bonds that held him fast to the ice. “This power… will be your prison,” he insisted.

The Old God laughed, an ugly, nauseating thing that reverberated unnaturally across the plateau. “This  _ world _ is a prison,” it gloated, as it reached a gloved hand towards the crown. “And I will break  _ free.” _

Above Icecrown Citadel, the cold blue sky shattered apart, torn through with burning orange, as the barrier between Azeroth and the Shadowlands was rent asunder.


	7. Chapter 7

Thrall woke the next morning early, and rose from an empty bed with only the sunrise for company. Half an hour later, he left his room and made his way along the cobbled paths of Aludrassil. The path curled around the buildings of the small town, as he approached the park where Saurfang wanted to meet.

The park itself was unlike anything he’d seen in Durotar or Mulgore. Bordered by gentle hills covered in short, thick grass, dotted with trees that looked as if they’d been there for decades, not the months that Aludrassil itself had been here for. In a huddle, making use of the shade afforded by one of the trees, stood Saurfang and several others.

Thrall stood there a moment, as he made out the others. Saurfang, Baine and Talanji made sense - he’d guessed earlier that whatever Saurfang was worried about, it would be a security matter for the Horde of some variety. The presence of King Anduin, Jaina, the Lightforged Draenei from last night - Y’mera, he recalled after a moment - and Genn Greymane confounded his expectations.

Whatever this was, it was more important than he’d assumed.

Taking a deep breath, Thrall approached the group.

* * *

Jaina had been discussing the events of the day with the others of the Alliance contingent late last night when the unexpected message insisting she come to the park the next morning had arrived.

Tyrande was still upset - she and Anduin had been going back and forth half the evening - and Genn was not helping matters, alternating between casual disinterest, a sudden focus on anything regarding Sylvanas, and a general suspicion about everything. Y’mera had left to collect a coffee order for everyone, and returned with a message for her from, of all people, Saurfang.

“It’s a trap,” Genn had said instantly when she relayed to the group its contents.

Anduin has looked puzzled for a moment, then almost relieved. “I believe it to be on the level, actually, Genn,” he said.

Tyrande looked incredulous. “You trust this orc?” she asked.

Anduin nodded slowly. “Enough for this, I think. I got a sense of the man, when he was in our dungeons.” He looked to Jaina. “I think it would be safe for you to attend. Perhaps you might learn something of use for our negotiations?”

Jaina looked at him, then nodded. “Very well. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“You won’t be alone,” Genn said, as he slapped a hand on Jaina’s shoulder. “I’ll be going with you. No arguments,” he added to forestall her objection. “The King might trust him but I do not.”

Tyrande looked at Jaina seriously. “I would feel more comfortable with Genn by your side,” she admitted.

Jaina sighed. “Very well,” she capitulated. I’ll see you there an hour after sunrise.”

“At sunrise,” Genn corrected. “I want to get a sense of the lay of the land before they spring whatever they’re up to on us.”

Jaina knew there was little point arguing. “Fine,” she agreed. “Sunrise, then.”

When she retired for the night - Anduin and Tyrande still debating the finer points of vengeance and restitution - it was to a bed she found achingly empty.

* * *

While she waited for Genn to finish his stalking patrol of the park and for Saurfang to turn up, she had not expected Anduin to arrive, with Y’mera in tow.

“Anduin?” she asked, as she frowned in concentration. “Why are you here?” She snapped her fingers in realisation. “You know what this is about, don’t you?”

Anduin smiled at her. “Oh, yes, Aunt Jaina, I do,” he assured her. “And I wouldn’t miss _this_ for all the world.”

Jaina narrowed her eyes. “You aren’t going to tell me, are you.” It was more a statement than question.

“And ruin the fun?” Anduin asked, his eyes lit up with amusement. “You’ll see soon enough. For now, I am supporting the Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras, an Alliance city.”

Jaina scoffed, and turned to Y’mera. “And you, Archmage? Will _you_ tell me what we’re all doing here?”

Y’mera nodded respectfully. “I am sorry, Lady Proudmoore, I have sworn an oath.” She glanced at the King.

Jaina turned her gaze back to Anduin. “I’ll get you for this, whatever it is.”

Anduin chuckled. “I wouldn’t expect otherwise. Genn is returning, I see.”

Indeed, Genn was stomping up to them. “I haven’t found any traps or other suspicious items,” he reported.

“Good!” Anduin said, clapping his hands. “Then we wait.”

Jaina folded her arms and huffed at him.

* * *

“Allright, what is all this about?” Thrall demanded as he entered the gathering.

“Warchief,” Saurfang said. “I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t ask for this audience,” he hastened to clarify.

“If this is how operational security is around here, I think we need more than just a _meeting,_ Varok,” Thrall said stiffly. “Why are all these people here? I thought this was about security, or something.”

Saurfang pulled himself upright. “I invited Baine, Talanji, and Lady Jaina Proudmoore.”

“Varok,” Thrall said, with effort to push patience into his tone. “King Anduin is here.”

“Yes, he is,” Saurfang said, glancing at the monarch. “I don’t know how he found out.”

“I am here because this matter concerns an important member of the Alliance, and I wanted to provide her my support.” Anduin nodded towards Jaina.

“Genn Greymane is here too,” Thrall added. “He rather looks like he wants to attack me.”

“He won’t,” Anduin called cheerfully from the far side of the group.

“I won’t,” Genn added after a pause, and after Jaina elbowed him.

“My intelligence sources inform me he won’t, Warchief,” Saurfang said dryly.

Thrall threw his hands in the air. “Well, that makes it alright, then!” He stared at Saurfang. “I won’t even _ask_ about the Lightforged Draenei. Why are we here, Varok?”

Saurfang looked around the group, then deflated. Turning back to Thrall, he squared his shoulders.

“Right. This is about- well. Thrall, I’ve known you a long time.”

Thrall blinked at him. “Oh boy.”

Saurfang ignored him. “I’ve known you through ups and downs, and the past couple of months, there’s been a change in you. A good change,” he rushed to reassure him before Thrall could interrupt. “You’ve been happier. I mean - yes, we defeated Sylvanas and saved the Horde from her leadership, and you’re Warchief again - but that’s not why.” Saurfang took a deep breath. “You’ve been happier because you’ve found someone who _makes_ you happy.”

Thrall glanced over towards Jaina, and found her looking back at him.

Saurfang followed his gaze to Jaina, then looked back to Thrall. He was _frowning,_ Thrall thought. He looked even more disgruntled than a moment before. “Fine,” Thrall said. “I won’t deny it. Is _that_ what this is about? Do you disapprove?”

“Is _this_ why we’re here?” Genn demanded, then turned to Anduin. “Why the _hell_ are we dealing with this?” Anduin shushed him.

“I don’t disapprove of you having a woman,” Saurfang growled low. “I disapprove of _this._ ” He gestured between Thrall and Jaina.

“Of- I don’t- _what?_ ” Thrall demanded, confused and angry.

“Why do you keep spending time with the Lady Proudmoore?” Saurfang asked.

Thrall started at him, shocked.

“I haven’t met the woman you’ve fallen for. I’m hurt that you feel like you have to hide a relationship, from me especially. Despite that, I will respect your choice in this. But you are disrespecting your woman by always running off with Jaina Proudmoore. Public events, secret meetings, conferences, even _sharing a meal._ ” Saurfang looks pained. “You shame the woman you’ve found, you shame yourself, and you shame the Horde. This needs to _stop_ , Thrall.”

Thrall’s jaw fell open in greater shock.

Anduin and Y’mera looked like they were trying not to burst out laughing. Jaina looked like an alchemical mixture of amusement and fury. Baine, too, looked like he found this hilarious. Talanji looked like she was concerned. Genn looked annoyed - but he always looked annoyed.

“Varok, I…” Thrall trailed off, not sure where to even start.

Evidently, Jaina had some ideas. “You say you haven’t even met the woman Thrall has fallen for?” she asked, almost too politely.

“To his shame, I have not,” Saurfang confirmed. “I am sorry you had to hear of her this way.”

“Oh, I think you might be wrong,” Jaina said, and strode over to stand next to Thrall, where she could glare at Saurfang to his face.

“I think I would recall the Warchief introducing his new partner,” Saurfang said, frowning. “Please,” he added, as he gestured at the two of them. “Look at how close you’re standing, even now.”

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake, you _have_ met her,” Jaina swore. She grabbed Thrall’s head in both her hands, and kissed him. Deeply, lustily, with tongue. Thrall’s hands easily found Jaina’s hips, and tugged her body against his. Jaina slid her leg up against Thrall’s thigh, and hooked it around him.

Anduin finally cracked, laughing loudly before he brought himself under control.

Y’mera and Baine had drifted together during the meeting, and both now looked on with smug expressions.

Genn, for his part, looked as grumpy as if someone had stolen his lunch. Talanji mostly looked confused, but delighted.

Jaina, after suspiciously longer than her breath should have lasted, broke off the kiss. Her chest heaving as she laboured for air, she turned back to Saurfang. “Satisfied?” she asked. “Or should I mount your Warchief right now, in front of everyone?”

“Oh, is that an option?” Y’mera asked from the sidelines. Baine turned to shush her.

“I…” Saurfang looked chagrined. “My… apologies, Warchief. And to you as well, Lady Proudmoore. I… have misunderstood some things.” He tried to regain some of his dignity. “Please, I only had the best-”

Saurfang cut off, as above them, the sky turned hues of dull orange and liquid blue, and then shattered like ice around a fishing hole, as the sound reverberated across the park.

* * *

“This isn’t something we’ve done,” Thrall said, as he stared up at the sky.

“Nor is it of our doing,” Anduin assured him in turn. “It does not bode well, though. I worry.”

Thrall nodded at the King. “I will have to check on Orgrimmar, and the status of our territories.” He turned to Talanji and Baine. “Go home, and report back with anything you find, or if this sky is even visible.” The two leaders nodded, and swiftly moved off.

“Jaina, Genn. Go find Tyrande and check with your homes and people, too,” Anduin ordered. “Archmage Y’mera, if you could confirm that the Vindiacaar is ready to deploy, please. I will speak with the Council here, then return to Stormwind to await your reports.”

Jaina lingered with Anduin and Thrall, as the others left. “I _do_ have Sylvanas in my custody,” she told them quietly. “I’ll also see if she has any light to shed on… _this._ ” She gestured at the sky with a hand.

Thrall nodded. “I’ll see you soon, my love.”

Jaina smiled. “My heart,” she replied, and left.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Anduin said with a smile, and left before Thrall could reply.


	8. Chapter 8

“Was this some failsafe of yours? Did you know this would happen?” Jaina asked the previous Warchief of the Horde’s spirit, bound by phylactery.

In the waters of Tiragarde Sound, there is a small island, barely large enough to earn the name. In the distant past it had been used as a convenient bit of dirt to set up fishing lines from, but it had long since fallen into disuse, with the fish biting too little, and larger hauls more easily gathered elsewhere.

Today, all that stood on it was a small hut, and a solitary guard at the door. Pulling duty here was often seen as a punishment by the Kul Tiran Guardsmen, protecting what was officially designated the ‘Strategic Foodstuff Reserve’, a storage facility that had been carefully dug floor by floor into the ground, and sealed against flooding with immaculate care.

It was a matter of many betting pools exactly  _ what _ Taelia had done to end up on indefinite assignment to this most lowly of tasks. Not a single coin, however, had been wagered on the truth of the matter: that the lowest floor of the Reserve had been cleared out, and that Jaina Proudmoore had secured what remained of Sylvanas Windrunner down there, safe from prying eyes and ears. A safe place for Jaina to interrogate her without interruption or likelihood of escape.

“I had no contingencies in case of failure,” Sylvanas’ spirit answered. Her tone lacked much of the vitriol and spite from her time in Durotar - while Jaina had made much headway in the time since moving the ex-Warchief here, it seemed something about the events above must have shaken her resolve to remain obdurate. “To have any such plan on hand would be to entertain the notion of  _ failing _ .”

“Of course,” Jaina said. “What tremendous ego, to not even consider the  _ possibility _ of being beaten.” She herself sat on a small chair, the padding its only concession to comfort. The room was lit artificially - no sunlight could reach through the dozen floors of the Reserve to reach this deep - and the air was dry, as befit a food store.

Sylvanas’ spirit stared at the mage in apparent fury for a moment, before she looked away. Was that  _ sadness _ her expression shifted into?

“You fail to understand,” Sylvanas said. “You could not comprehend.”

The silence stretched. “Well then, would you like to try to explain?” Jaina asked. To her surprise, it seemed that Sylvanas actually  _ did _ for once.

“To be incorporeal is to be powerless,” Sylvanas said, in a hushed tone -  _ wounded, _ Jaina might even say. “Unable to interact in even the smallest of ways with the world. Passing through it, but never  _ of _ it. Those of you who remain corporeal - like you, mage - are incapable of experiencing it to the same degree.”

“Let us say I agree, for the moment. What’s your point?” Jaina raised an eyebrow at her prisoner.

“It is more than a fear,” Sylvanas whispered. “More than terror, more than a mere phobia. It is incapacitating. To merely  _ think _ of it is to render one incapable of sensible action for hours. No, it was not mere  _ ego _ that counselled me to forego a contingency in the event of failure. It was that I  _ could not do so,  _ lest it destroy me.”

Jaina looked at the spirit for a long moment in thought. “If what you say is true… then why aren’t you debilitated now, while we discuss it?”

Sylvanas looked troubled. “I… am not certain,” she admitted.

“Something to think about then. So, this isn’t a contingency plan of yours, then. Do you have idea what it  _ could _ be?”

Sylvanas shrugged, in a way that struck Jaina as calculatedly casual. “I would have to  _ see _ the sky you describe,” she said.

“I’m not taking you outside,” Jaina said, and stretched an arm toward the roof. The ceiling burst into light, as she summoned an illusion of the sky.

Sylvanas stared at the image. “You say it  _ cracked _ ? From the north?”

“Yes,” Jaina said, and twitched her fingers. The illusion animated across the ceiling, in imitation of how the sky had cracked in the moment it occured.

Sylvanas looked, if anything, shocked. “I cannot be certain,” she said hesitantly. “You will have to go to Icecrown.”

“Icecrown? Why?” Jaina asked, both suspicious and curious, as she dispelled the ceiling display with a flick of her wrist.

“Because I cannot be certain,” Sylvanas repeated. “Go, mage. Investigate the peak of Icecrown Citadel, and tell me what you find. Then I  _ may _ be able to tell you more.”

Jaina studied her prisoner for a long moment. “Alright,” she finally said. “But if this is a trap like last time-”

“No trap,” Sylvanas said. “At least, not a trap for you. If you want answers, you will find some in Icecrown.”

With a resigned sigh, Jaina checked the bonds and seals on the room, ensured they would secure Sylvanas for the time being, then began the climb out of the Reserve.

It gave her time to think.

* * *

When Thrall and Saurfang had arrived at Dranosh'ar Landing, Thrall had asked the dockworkers for any news from Orgrimmar - they could commonly be relied on to have heard, at the least, a ridiculous rumor that any sensible person would dismiss out of hand.

That they had nothing to mention - that they had  _ heard _ nothing - disturbed him greatly.

The lack of guards in front of the Orgrimmar Gate disturbed him further.

The impenetrable purple-hued barrier that prevented them from entering the city disturbed him most.

“How long has this been here?” Saurfang asked, as he tested the barrier with his axe.

“It wasn’t here when I last left,” Thrall noted. “The colour disturbs me.”

“More, or less, than the barrier itself?” Saurfang asked with a grunt as his axe bounced off the barrier. “I’ve never known an orc to have so many levels of ‘disturbed’ as you, Warchief.”

“Shut up, Varok,” Thrall said good naturedly. “I’ve seen a barrier tinted purple before recently, I know it. I just can’t place it.” He glanced over to Saurfang, who was preparing another swing. “Don’t bother, Varok. If your first strike didn’t affect it, you’ll only blunt your axe by persisting.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Saurfang asked, as Thrall turned and retreated the way they’d come, out into the field before the Gate. Saurfang followed him out.

“There, look - do you see?” Thrall asked, pointed up over their heads, over the battlements.

“No, Warchief,” Saurfang said dutifully.

Thrall looked at him. “Spirits, Varok - try standing upright. And look the right way.” Thrall took Saurfang by the shoulders, and turned him to face back towards Orgrimmar.

“There, just above the battlements - do you see that sliver of shimmering purple?” Thrall asked. “The barrier inside, it wasn’t perfectly flat either.” Thrall rubbed his hands together. “I don’t think they merely sealed off the Gate. Orgrimmar is encased in a bubble.”

“Are you sure?” Saurfang asked doubtfully. “I don’t understand too much about magic, but that sounds like a lot of effort to go to.”

“It is,” Thrall agreed. “And that narrows down who  _ could  _ have done this significantly.”

“I wonder,” Saurfang said. “Are our other territories under attack?”

“So, you believe this is an attack, then?” Thrall asked slowly.

Saurfang looked back at him. “You don’t?” he asked.

Thrall let out a long breath. “You’re probably right,” he conceded. “So, that leaves us with our questions. Who did it, and who else is under attack?”

* * *

Thrall and Saurfang spent another hour trying to determine what they could of the state of Orgrimmar. From their side of the barrier, most of the city was obscured. Once or twice, staring at the barrier in the Gate passageway, Thrall could see a great, shambling shadow of  _ something _ shuffling about, but no more detail than that.

A messenger had arrived, bearing missives from Baine and Talanji. Neither city had been shrouded by a barrier, but both reported uprisings, looting, and panicked people in their respective cities. Some had taken to insisting that the shattered skies were a sign - but a sign of  _ what _ exactly was unclear. Some had taken to their own homes with torches, and others had simply gone ransacking. Regardless, it was a catastrophe.

“We need to find out if the Alliance is experiencing this too,” Thrall said.

“What if the Alliance is the  _ cause _ of it?” Saurfang asked.

Thrall straightened his shoulders. “Then we need to find that out, too.”

* * *

It had taken them half an hour to find a mage who could open a portal for them all the way to Elwynn Forest. Saurfang had insisted on checking in person, rather than trusting a call to King Anduin. The delay had left Thrall wishing he had Jaina here - this would probably have been sorted out by now if she were.

Of course, she may have objected to him arriving at the outskirts of Goldshire.

Saurfang led the way, keeping them out of sight of any potential guard patrols, as they made their way towards the gates of Stormwind. Thrall was sure this wasn’t some secret attack, but Genn and Tyrande had made Saurfang suspicious, so he assented to the excess of caution.

In the end, it was unnecessary. When they reached the gates themselves, they found King Anduin himself standing outside the city proper.

Staring at a purple-tinted bubble that appeared to contain the entirety of Stormwind.

* * *

It had only taken a brief, tense conversation to establish that no one was going to attack anyone at this impromptu meeting. They had quickly moved on to exchanging intelligence on what they knew.

“To my knowledge, only Stormwind has been cut off from the outside world,” Anduin said. “Though Ironforge, at least, has been thrown into disarray. The citizenry are in turmoil, rioting and turning on each other. My reports indicate that the Twilight’s Hammer cult appears to have risen  _ again- _ ” The King sounds frustrated. “- and are whipping the people up even worse.”

“We have similar reports from our cities,” Thrall said. “Though the cult involvement is news to me. Have you been able to see through the barrier?” Thrall gestured to the purple bubble, which Saurfang was busy swinging his axe at - “Just in case,” he’d said, “it’s different.”

Anduin nodded. “Not from here, but I had a scout sent up on a gryphon, and the view from above is apparently quite telling.” He took a deep breath. “Eldritch monstrosities, tentacles waving about, and almost no one out on the streets - and those who are, appear to be raving or screaming.”

Thrall swore. “This is sounding more and more like an Old God is involved.”

“That was my conclusion as well,” Anduin said. “In the past, we’ve dealt with C’thun, Yogg-Saron, Y’Shaarj, and G’huun.”

“Yes,” Thrall said. “Unless there’s new horrors out there for us to discover - and by the spirits, I hope there is not - the process of elimination leaves only one conclusion.”

“Indeed,” Anduin said grimly. “N’zoth has come for us.”


	9. Chapter 9

The sky was broken, shattered like a frozen pond and bleeding orange into icy blue, the evening that Jaina Proudmoore reached the cold, lonely stairs of Icecrown Citadel.

She placed her hands on her hips, a thick coat her only concession to the cold - in theory, she could use a fire spell to warm herself up, but fire had not been her strongest school of magic and she was disinclined to test herself right now. She scowled at the endless uneven stairs, then up at the pinnacle of the Citadel itself.

“Fuck this,” she muttered, and drew a circle with her hand. Paired with her will, a portal to the summit popped into existence. Gathering herself, she boldly strode through, and out onto the plateau at the peak.

It looked like there had been a fight here.

Large gouges in the surface had been carved - by projectiles, as best she could tell - then frozen back over, leaving rents in the otherwise flat plane. The Lich King was not upon his Frozen Throne. Instead, he sat in a heap at the foot of the final stairs to that seat of power and authority.

He did not look well.

Jaina approached him slowly, and knelt down next to him. His chest still rose and fell, in an approximation of normal breathing.

“Jaina Proudmoore,” he said.

“Bolvar,” Jaina said. “You’re hurt.”

“I should… recover,” the Lich King said, then turned his head to eye the broken sky. “If we don’t all die first.”

“What happened here? Who did this?” Jaina frowned in concern.

“It was an Old God,” the Lich King said, his voice ragged.

“An Old God?” Jaina asked, aghast.

The Lich King nodded. “Yes. N’zoth. I could… sense… the nature of its power,” he confirmed. “You should know, it was in-” He broke off into a coughing fit.

“Take your time. Can I help?”

“No,” the Lich King said. “This will run its course, in time.” He paused a moment. “N’zoth has taken possession of the body of Sylvanas Windrunner. It was in that form we had our confrontation, and consequently wrest the brunt of my power from me.”

“So she - sorry, N’zoth - did this?” Jaina gestured at the sky.

The Lich King nodded painfully.

Jaina tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “Why Sylvanas, though? Was that deliberate, or was that merely the most convenient body to take?”

The Lich King tilted his head to look up at the sky. “You are… closer to the rupture than you could be anywhere else on Azeroth. How does it… feel to you, now?”

Jaina frowned, then looked up at the sky. If the sky had been shattered like ice across a lake, this was certainly where the weight had broken through. She concentrated, stretched out with her senses.

Jaina gasped. “There’s a familiar feel to it, somehow. Where have I felt-” Her eyes snapped into focus on the Lich King. “That  _ rupture, _ I think you called it? It feels similar to Shadowlands magic.” She frowned. “You said N’zoth took most of your power from you.”

“Yes. It could not have done that without a body that could already access those forces. On Azeroth, there are only three.”

Jaina’s voice hardened. “You, Sylvanas... and me, right?”

The Lich King nodded. “You are correct,” he confirmed. “With Sylvanas’ body, it confronted me, and took enough strength to rip open the barrier between here and the Shadowlands.”

Jaina sighed. “I suppose I should be thankful it decided on Sylvanas rather than coming for me.” She stood up straighter, and looked at the hole in the sky once more. “What’s it’s plan? I confess I don’t know enough about the place to hazard a guess as to what N’zoth could do with it.”

“I don’t know,” the Lich King admitted. “I have seen some of the pieces, but not the entire board.” His breath heaved with effort, and he held up a trembling arm. He gestured to the side, and in the air, a screen of ice formed, with an image of somewhere else in Icecrown animated across it. “Look,” he said.

Jaina turned from the Lich King to examine the image. It appeared to be one of the Ymir towns in the area, though everywhere there were gruesome, eldritch tentacles burst from the ground, wound around poles and fences, and threaded through the buildings. They curled through windows and burst through roofing tiles. Along the streets, monstrous abominations patrolled.

“Ymirheim,” the Lich King explained. “Look to the town centre.”

Jaina concentrated on the image, and found she could direct it, after a fashion. She willed it to move in, and the viewing angle shifted.

In the centre of town, a hideous biological form was growing, embedded in the ground, bulbous, and non-euclidian. It gave Jaina a headache to look at it too long, and her eyes seemed to want to slide off it.

“What  _ is _ that?” Jaina asked.

“A new body for an Old God,” the Lich King said.

Jaina paused, then concentrated on the image. “I can sense… there’s a pair of energy flows here. Where are they coming from?”

The Lich King was silent for a moment. “I have detected no flows,” he said.

“They’re there,” Jaina said with growing certainty. “One from the south-west, and another from the south-east.” She focused, and the image shifted towards the south-east. If something had happened to Kul Tiras… but no, the image flew past her island city-state, not slowing until it reached the Eastern Kingdoms. The image settled on an aerial view of Stormwind.

Jaina gasped at the view - a large purple bubble encasing the entire city. Tentacles burst through the ground, and horrors walking the streets. “That’s not good,” she said shakily.

The Lich King tried to look at the image from where he was on the ground. “Draining some kind of energy from the city and its people, no doubt.”

“How many will have died?” Jaina asked.

The Lich King was silent.

“ _ Fuck, _ ” Jaina swore. “There was another flow. I can probably guess, but let’s be sure.” She focused on the image, and it began to fly over the landscape again, this time towards the Great Sea. She saw the Maelstrom flicker past, and after a time, the coastline of Kalimdor. The image came to settle on Orgrimmar.

It, too, was encased in a bubble, with the same horrors she saw at Stormwind inflicted upon it.

“Whatever N’zoth is doing, we have to stop it,” Jaina declared. “Before there’s no one left to save. Are you  _ sure _ you don’t know what its plot is?”

The Lich King shook his head. “It did not deign to share its scheme with me. But I fear it has ensured I will be unable to intervene before it is completed.”

Jaina stood up straight, and sighed heavily. She looked up at the sky, deep in thought, as the image of Orgrimmar cracked and the window vanished, its magic used up.

“You called it a  _ rupture, _ ” Jaina said quietly. “Between Azeroth and the Shadowlands, presumably?”

The Lich King nodded.

“What’s it like?” Jaina turned to face the Lich King after a moment. “The Shadowlands. What’s it like on the other side?”

The Lich King took a ragged breath. “The Shadowlands… is an endless series of realms of the dead. Different worlds, for different souls. Some are more important than others - there are five that hold onto primacy over the rest. Bastion, Ardenweald, Revendreth, Maldraxxus, and the Maw.”

Jaina shuddered. “So it  _ is _ where you go when you die, then.”

The Lich King nodded. “For most,” he said. “There is an… Arbiter. You are judged, and assigned a realm.”

“Are you the arbiter?” Jaina asked.

“No.”

“Please tell me I wouldn’t have to spend eternity with Kael’thas Sunstrider,” she snarked.

“Kael’thas was assigned to Revendreth to atone. Do you have anything to atone for, Jaina Proudmoore?”

Jaina did not answer.

“It does not matter,” the Lich King said. “Something has been wrong, even before N’zoth ruptured the realms. Souls are not getting distributed.”

Jaina frowned. “What do you mean?”

“They are all going to the Maw,” the Lich King said. “Every one. Since before this latest war.”

“The Maw? One of the five ruling realms?”

The Lich King nodded. “You can think of it as a prison for the worst of souls. None have escaped. Even I cannot tell you what transpires there.”

“And  _ everyone _ is going there, you said.” Jaina looked troubled.

“It is a problem for another time,” the Lich King said. “N’zoth is more pressing.”

Jaina shook herself. “You’re right,” she agreed. “One all-consuming threat at a time.” She looked up at the sky again. “That’s the place N’zoth has opened up to us, then. It’s got to be a part of whatever scheme it’s enacting.”

The Lich King nodded. “I do not know what it hopes to accomplish with it.”

Jaina looked off into the distance. “Well, we’ll just have to stop it, won’t we?”

She looked down at the Lich King, who was still struggling with effort to breathe.

“I,” she said. “ _ I _ will just have to stop it.”


	10. Chapter 10

Jaina stepped through her portal into Proudmoore Keep, and found her city in chaos. Tracking down Cyrus Crestfall and extracting a terse report from the man had not taken long - apparently, cities all over Azeroth were experiencing similar breakdowns of civilised behaviour. He appeared to have the matter well in hand, and Jaina suspected that these riots were not unrelated to what she had learnt at Icecrown, so she left bringing Kul Tiras back under control in Cyrus’ capable hands, and focused on her own quarry.

Another portal, and she had arrived on the small island in the bay. The lone guard had been warily keeping an eye on Boralus, across the eastern waters, and snapped to attention when Jaina stepped onto the sands.

“Taelia,” Jaina greeted her. “Any disturbances here?”

“No, Lord Admiral,” the guard replied, and shifted to let her pass.

Jaina made her way down the Strategic Foodstuff Reserve, until she reached the lowest floor and her prisoner.

“You’ll never guess what I found when I went to Icecrown,” she began.

“A rift in the fabric that separates us from the realm of the dead,” Sylvanas said.

Jaina cut off and looked at her prisoner with suspicion. “You knew,” she accused her. “You knew before you even pointed me at Icecrown.”

“I suspected,” Sylvanas said, and her voice turned bitter. “I knew you would not trust me if I had told you. Noone will trust me, ever again. You needed to see with your own eyes before we could have this conversation.”

“If there is a lack of trust here, that’s because of you, Sylvanas,” Jaina retorted. “Your actions. Your crimes. Your deceit. Your  _ inability _ to be  _ trusted. _ ”

“Like I said, you will never trust me. You needed to see it yourself.”

Jaina stared at Sylvanas for a long moment in silent thought. “So. A rupture between here and the Shadowlands. Tell me how you knew I’d find that in Icecrown.” She gestured with a hand for her prisoner to speak.

Sylvanas seemed to shift uncomfortably. “That had been my plan,” she admitted. “Once I had defeated Thrall’s trifling insurrection-”

“His righteous overthrow of a tyrant, you mean.”

“His  _ trifling insurrection, _ I was going to climb Icecrown, take the Lich King’s crown by force, and break it apart. In so doing, I would open the way between here and the Shadowlands. From the looks of your sky, this is what has happened.”

Jaina nodded. Unfortunately, it tracked with what she knew of the former Warchief. “I was able to confirm it, when I spoke with the Lich King.”

“He survived the assault that took his power, then? Interesting. I was expecting to have to end him.”

Jaina snorted. “I imagine N’zoth has other means at his disposal.”

Sylvanas stared. “N’zoth? The Old God?”

Jaina nodded in conformation. “It gets worse, though. He was using your body at the time.”

“My... body?”

“I can only assume N’zoth retrieved your form after the mak’gora you unequivocally lost,” Jaina said nonchalantly. “Any idea why he would need to possess you, aside from a sense of dramatic irony?”

Sylvanas looked troubled. “There is a connection to the Shadowlands that is required to break open the curtain that shields us from the afterlife. I had a connection to that place, before I was captured. It may have thought to use it through me.”

“And how did you come by that connection, Sylvanas?” Jaina asked pointedly. “Something to do with the flow of souls to the Maw, perhaps?”

Sylvanas looked at Jaina blankly. “The  _ Maw? _ ” she asked, as if sounding out the words. “Souls? I know nothing of this.”

Jaina raised an eyebrow. “And the connection?”

Sylvanas remained silent.

Jaina sighed. “Orgrimmar and Stormwind have been encased in bubbles, sealed off from the rest of Azeroth. There’s an energy flow between them and where N’zoth has set up in Ymirheim. What will you tell me about  _ that? _ ”

Sylvanas shrugged. “It’s probably that flow of souls you mentioned - if N’zoth is planning something to do with the Shadowlands, then he will need souls. They’re  _ currency _ in that place, you know.”

“ _ Currency? _ ” Jaina asked, aghast. “No, I did  _ not _ know.”

Sylvanas nodded. “Oh yes. Traded and bartered. It’s probably the reason behind the souls flowing into the Maw that you mentioned, too. Regardless, you’ll probably want to look into stopping that.  _ Saving the people _ , or some such.” She made a flippant gesture, as if the thought were a trifle.

Jaina looked over at Sylvanas warily, a suspicion forming. “Why are you being so helpful?” she asked quietly, dangerously.

Sylvanas was quiet for a long, thoughtful moment. Time ticked by.

“Like I said before,” she began. “I know you will not trust me. Not you, not others. None will forgive me, and none will trust me, if anyone even knows I am your prisoner and not left to rot in an unmarked grave. You will never release me. My fate is to remain bound, in a place not of my choosing, dragged out for scary campfire stories, or for an interrogation not unlike this one. There is nothing left for me in this existence, save when my captors come to speak to me. Save what and when  _ you _ choose to interact with me.” Sylvanas gestured around the room. “You have buried me, and you could easily leave me here to gather dust, and go insane. I would prefer otherwise. I would like to…  _ talk, _ sometimes. I would like, someday, to see the sun again.” She looked away. “I would not be  _ forgotten. _ ”

Jaina stared at her prisoner a moment. “Why, Sylvanas…” she said. “It sounds like you think there’s a chance to get something you want. Was that… a sliver of  _ hope? _ ”

“No,” Sylvanas said swiftly, and folded her arms. “Shut up.”

* * *

It had taken a day for Jaina to round up Anduin, Thrall, and Saurfang - who had insisted on coming - and to then arrange a meeting in the one place that had seemed entirely unaffected by what was going on - Aludrassil. They were seated around the same meeting table they had used earlier in the week, though this time with different purpose.

“We’ve been unable to penetrate the barrier around Stormwind,” Anduin said. “Other than shadowy apparitions on the other side and the occasional scream, we’ve had no sign of any activity from within.”

“We found the same at Orgrimmar,” Thrall added. “Saurfang here went through all his axes trying.”

“That matches up with what I saw,” Jaina said, weary - she’d had little time for sleep of late. “I’ve been able to confirm that this is N’zoth’s doing, and that we need to stop it. I’m also confident I can puncture the barriers surrounding the cities.” She’d engaged in some frantic study on her way here - the bubbles themselves were similar to the one Sylvanas had trapped her in, months ago, and she was sure she could persuade them to open for her.

“I propose we focus first on securing our respective capitals,” Anduin said.

Thrall nodded. “That sounds wise to me. From what Jaina discovered, it sounds like N’zoth is using our people to power something. If we can cut that flow off, we can save our citizens, and weaken him for a follow-up assault on whatever it’s doing in Icecrown.”

Anduin nodded. “Agreed. With our capitals secured, we can then gather our intel and plan a combined assault on Icecrown.”

Thrall smiled grimly. “Just like old times, isn’t it? Feels like there’s always  _ some _ all-encompassing threat rearing its head, forcing us to put aside our differences and work together for the good of everyone.”

“All the more reason for us to stop fighting each other between these threats - but that’s what we’ve been working on, isn’t it?” Anduin smiled back. “I propose that Jaina lead the assault to reclaim Orgrimmar.”

“What?” Saurfang asked. “You expect us to-”

“Peace, High Overlord,” Anduin interrupted. “Forgive me for being so blunt, but Jaina  _ is  _ the most experienced person we have at assaulting Orgrimmar and overcoming its defenses.”

Saurfang looked at the King, then Jaina grumpily. “I wasn’t defending it then,” he said unhappily.

“And you aren’t right now,” Jaina said. “It’s a good point. I’ll do it.”

“I suppose that means I should oversee retaking Stormwind, then,” Thrall said. “So we can be clear this is a joint effort.”

“I have some ideas on sneaking into the place,” Saurfang said smugly. “I’ll share them with you, Warchief.”

“Very well,” Anduin acquiesced with a nod. “I will remain here with High Overlord Saurfang, and we can organise our combined efforts from Aludrassil.” He looked around the group. “Is there anything left?”

“Only good luck,” Jaina said.

Thrall nodded. “May the spirits be with us all.”

“Indeed,” Anduin said. “We  _ must _ succeed in this. Once our cities are reclaimed, we’ll regroup here.” He looked around the table. “May the Light bless us.”


	11. Chapter 11

An azure-tinged portal tore open in Durotar, and Jaina Proudmoore strode through it, a half dozen of SI-7’s best agents in her wake. They stood on the eastern bank of the Southfury River, north of the watershed that was the result of the Cataclysm. She checked that they had arrived unobserved, then proceeded toward their target - the gate that marked the entrance to the Valley of Spirits.

As she’d expected, the gate itself bore the purple glow of the barrier that formed the bubble over Orgrimmar. Jaina raised her hands towards the shield, and concentrated, channelling some of the esoteric magic she’d learnt so recently.

With apparent reluctance, a split ripped in the barrier, just wide enough for them to enter in single file. Jaina gestured to her team to move through, then followed suit. The barrier closed back up behind her.

They moved silently through the Valley of Spirits. The way was narrow, punctuated by the occasional troll-aesthetic tower, though everything was tinted purple by what light made it through the barrier. One of the agents gestured towards one such tower on the left - Jaina looked, and noticed what looked to be a troll and a goblin looking down at them from on high. They weren’t sounding an alarm, and looked to be trying to hide themselves. “A good sign,” Jaina whispered to her agents. “There’s some survivors, at least.”

Further in, they could see makeshift cages, some of the bars made of tentacles that had pushed up from the ground. Inside, some orcs and trolls sat, not even attempting escape.

Jaina made a decision. “We’re going to try to free them,” she said. “Follow me.”

* * *

Thrall watched the mage that Jaina had handpicked to bring them through the barrier warily as she did something arcane with the scroll that Jaina had similarly provided. They - himself, Saurfang, a handful of Grunts he had carefully vetted, and Jaina’s mage - had arrived in Elwynn Forest without being detected, and approached the walls of Stormwind. On the other side, he knew, was the city district of Old Town. Saurfang had lead them to a small opening in the wall - more a hole of crumbled brick, and the older Orc had delighted to tell them all of how it was more commonly used to smuggle booze and books in and out of the city respectively - and, to no one's surprise, they had found the purple bubble neatly blocking the way.

The mage gestured, with a painful wince, and Thrall felt a flow of magic as the barrier gave way under the prepared spellwork. “Here we go,” Saurfang said, and gestured for his Grunts to enter.

“My work is done, Warchief Thrall,” the mage said. “I will wait out of sight for your return, and bring you back to Aludrassil. Good luck.” The mage twisted her fingers, and faded from view.

“A neat trick,” Saurfang said, as Thrall shifted past him, through the wall, and into Stormwind. Saurfang followed, and the barrier sealed up behind him.

The group moved forward as quietly as they could, using barrels and buildings for cover. Thrall took the lead from Saurfang, who resigned himself to merely a judgemental glare at him for the risks involved in being at the front. He would hear about it later, he knew.

A horrible keening sounded to their right, and Thrall ducked behind a wooden crate. He peeked around the side, as carefully as he could.

A horrific monstrosity was patrolling the street, waving fleshy tentacle-arms as it shambled toward them. Behind it, a couple of humans - prisoners, by the look of it - followed, their faces slack with terror. More creations of nightmare brought up the rear.

Thrall watched as they approached, and held his breath as they passed. Thank the spirits, their group went unnoticed. Thrall waited until, far ahead, they had taken a left towards the canals, out of sight.

“Looks like they’re heading towards the Cathedral,” Saurfang said.

“I agree,” Thrall said. “Let’s go see what’s so interesting there.”

* * *

The SI-7 agents were in place. Jaina had given herself the furthest cage to creep towards. She gave the signal, and as one, they approached the row of makeshift cages. While the agents picked or quietly smashed locks - in accordance with their respective skillsets - she worked a quick piece of ice magic, which froze and then shattered the lock on her cage. It swung open with a quiet squeak.

“You’re free now,” Jaina told the troll inside. “Leave through the Southfury gate. You’ll-”

“No!” the freed prisoner cried in panicked alarm. “No! You’ve made it worse! I can’t! I won’t!” The prisoner darted from the cage, and past Jaina. She looked up the line, and saw the other prisoners had acted in similar terror, and were now rushing entirely the wrong way, towards the centre of Orgrimmar.

Jaina cursed. There was nothing more she could do, lest their mission be undone. She gestured for her agents to join her, hiding behind what cover could be managed.

As they slid from sight, she looked for the freed prisoners. They had run up to an Orc ahead, who appeared to have a message board slung over their shoulders, worn as if a shield. She recognised the characters written on it in lurid purple. “The Twilight’s Hammer cult,” she cursed quietly.

“Help us!” she heard the released prisoner cry. “We must be caged!”

Jaina heard the cultist chuckle. “Fools. You were due for processing next anyway. You’ll come with me to the Valley of Honor.”

“Yes! Yes!” the prisoner cried. “Anything to stop the terror!”

The cultist looked to his side, and two more cultists exited a nearby building. The three of them rounded up the prisoners, and led them east.

“The Valley of Honor,” Jaina said. “I guess we should go have a look.”

* * *

Thrall had carefully followed the patrol, with Saurfang taking pains to keep them from being spotted. As they stalked up the canals, he had noted with distaste that the water had turned a bubbling purple, too.

The winding ways of Stormwind worked in their favour here, letting them continue undetected until they reached the Cathedral district. As he looked into the large courtyard before the Cathedral proper, Thrall gasped in shock.

The entire area had been transformed, flattened and marked by tentacles that erupted from the ground like light posts. On the right, half the area was made up of what looked to him to be a sacrificial altar, and behind it piles of unburied dead. On the left, a line of humans entered one at a time into a tent structure, where - judging from the violet light show - some serious magic was being performed. From the other side, horrific, bulbous terrors, with tentacle limbs, walked out, forming ranks in the back. In the middle, he could see the patrol they’d followed here.

The lead horrorterror was separating the humans they’d marched here, directing half of them toward the altar, and half toward the tent. Whatever the criteria for selection was, Thrall could not discern it. 

“Varok…” Thrall whispered, aghast. “They’re…”

“I know,” Saurfang replied grimly. “But we can’t save them.”

Thrall looked at his old friend, a glint in his eye. “Can’t we?” he challenged.

Saurfang looked suddenly troubled. “Thrall, we can’t take on-”

“I’ll go left. You go right. Split the Grunts between us.”

“This isn’t wise-”

“Ready?” Thrall interrupted. “Good.  _ Go. _ ” Thrall raised his Doomhammer, and let out a battle cry as he charged forward, intent on saving those who could not save themselves.

* * *

Jaina and her agents had followed the prisoner procession through the remaining slums of the Valley of Spirits, around the back of Grommash Hold, and into the Drag. The cultists were not particularly conscientious about their guard duties, and they had not experienced any difficulty in following after, darting from cover to cover, her spellwork assisting to mask the sound of their footsteps. As they rounded the curve of the street, she heard arguing up ahead, and gestured for her agents to stop as she tried to listen in.

“I’m nearly done for the day,” she heard one of the cultists complain.

“Ridiculous,” another said. “Service to N’zoth does  _ not _ observe business hours.”

“You don’t need me for this lot. They’re  _ docile. _ They’ll do as they're told.”

“So should you,” the second voice warned.

“I do. Glory to N’zoth, my life in his service, blah blah blah. I’m going to find a good drink in here and then catch some  _ sleep _ .”

“You’ll do- Oh.  _ Sleep. _ Yes. Why don’t you go and enjoy what sleep N’zoth will give you.” The voice sounded threatening now, but the first voice clearly hadn’t picked up on it.

“Great.” Jaina saw the first cultist meander into a building on the right. She waited, and the procession continued onward, turning right into the Valley of Honor ahead.

“Let’s get some intel,” Jaina whispered to her agents, and they shifted forward, approaching the building the cultist had entered - an abandoned store, from the look of it. Jaina peeked in the door, and saw the cultist ransaking the shelves.

It was the matter of a moment’s work, and she and her agents were safely inside the shop, the cultist trussed up, and no sign they were detected. Slick, professional work. Jaina made a mental note to say so in her report later, and turned to their prisoner.

“So, an N’zoth cult,” Jaina said, her voice quiet and dangerous. “Tell me what you’re doing here. Tell me what’s in the Valley of Honor.”

The cultist laughed, a deranged, mad sound that seemed to echo wrongly off the walls. “Don’t you know?” he cackled. “Haven’t you figured it out? Oh, you will. You will, Lady Proudmoore!” He laughed louder, and something seemed to pulse under his skin, and his laughter choked off, as he fell limp to the floor.

“Check him!” Jaina hissed to an agent, as she checked out the door. Noone seemed to have noticed the outburst. She turned back to the agent.

The agent shook his head. “He’s dead,” he said grimly.

“Great,” Jaina muttered. “No point staying here. Let’s keep moving.”

* * *

“Lok’tar Ogar!” Thrall cried out, as he brought Doomhammer down on another horrorterror. He swung around, looking for his next target - and found none.

They had triumphed.

Saurfang prowled over toward him. “We lost Grezz,” he said.

Thrall looked skyward. The view was marred by purple. He closed his eyes. “He is with the spirits now,” he said solemnly.

“The prisoners,” Saurfang verbally nudged him after a moment.

“Right,” Thrall said. The humans were huddled together, clearly terrified, but also, by all appearances, sane. He walked to them. “Citizens of Stormwind,” he began.

“Here we go,” Saurfang muttered behind him.

“Turn your gaze to each other, and see! Today, you have been saved from destruction in defiance of an Old God! N’zoth, the Corruptor, had a terrible fate intended for you, that we have thwarted!”

“We need to keep moving, Thrall,” Saurfang grumbled.

“Fine,” Thrall replied under his breath, and turned back to the rescued humans. “If your lives are worth living, then head back toward the Old Town district. Some of you may know of the gap in the wall there - ahh, I see a few do. One of our team will open the barrier for you if she knows you are there. Escape the city! Hold onto hope! We  _ will _ save Stormwind!”

The humans looked at each other, unsure how to respond. One or two tried to cheer, but petered out when noone else joined in.

“Go!” Thrall urged them, and they finally began to move.

“Bravo, Warchief,” Saurfang said sarcastically. “Very moving.”

“Shut up,” Thrall said cheerfully. “Did you notice, during the battle, one of the monsters made an escape.”

“Yes,” Saurfang mused. “Towards the Mage district, I believe?”

Thrall nodded. “I think it was going to warn its masters. I suspect we’ll find what we’re looking for there.”

Saurfang nodded. “As good a plan as any,” he said, and moved off to round up the remaining Grunts.

* * *

Jaina and her agents had reached the entrance to the Valley of Honor. Moving carefully through the chokepoint, they’d entered the valley proper. Jaina was shocked by what had happened here, as they moved forward.

The entire valley had been transformed.

Vast purple tentacles thrust upward from the broken ground. The buildings were entwined, consumed, devoured by bulbous, cancerous flesh. The ground had taken on a violet hue, and she could feel oppressive, oily-slick magic flows permeating the air. It had started to rain lightly, only adding to the oppressive atmosphere.

There was a figure on what remained of a wooden pier, thrust out into the lake that now bubbled like a cauldron. Upon it stood a figure that seemed familiar.

Jaina crept closer. “No…” she whispered. “It can’t be…”

* * *

Thrall approached the centre of the Mage district. There used to be a tower here, tall and slender. It had been flattened, or removed, and a tiled courtyard was in its place, bounded by purple tentacles that rose up slender trellises as if they were cultivated vines in a garden. A light shower had begun, somehow penetrating the barrier.

He heard Saurfang order the Grunts to spread out in a flank behind him, but his attentions were focused on the too-familiar figure that stood in the exact centre of the courtyard, bright colours swirling around.

“No,” Thrall said as he closed the distance as if entranced, step by step. “It can’t be…”

* * *

On the pier stood Thrall, in full shaman regalia, overlaid with cultist trappings. He turned to Jaina and laughed. “Oh, but it is,” he assured her. “Who else could it be?”

* * *

“No,” Thrall said, as he looked at Jaina, resplendent in arcane attire, her hair half her own and half made of writhing, purple tentacles. “It can’t be you.”

“Why not?” Jaina purred. “I’m no fool. I can see which way the wind is blowing.”

* * *

“N’zoth is a powerful god,” Thrall continued in a voice heavy with wonder, as he placed totems in a circle around him. “There was never any doubt that he would succeed here.”

* * *

“That he would overwhelm our defenses. That we would crumble before his might, his majestic madness,” Jaina whispered, as she summoned elementals one by one - not her usual crystal-clear ones, but violet, and discordant to Thrall’s senses.

* * *

“There was only one sensible response, one rational course of action,” Thrall said.

* * *

“To join him,” Jaina said.

* * *

“To join him,” Thrall said.

* * *

“No,” Thrall said, and held out Doomhammer to gesture at Jaina. “That’s not true. There is  _ always _ a choice. Always hope. There’s always a way to fight for what is right!”

* * *

Thrall laughed, and it was an ugly thing, full of scorn. Jaina took an involuntary half-step back in shock. “There’s that endless naivete. It has  _ never _ served you well, Jaina.”

* * *

Thrall tried to work his throat, to respond to the verbal dagger Jaina had neatly lodged in his heart. “Naivete?” Thrall finally asked, in a small voice. “That’s what you think of me?” Thrall swallowed, rallying his courage. “That’s what you think of what we’ve fought for, of our dreams for the future?”

Jaina looked at Thrall with mocking pity. “Oh, you fool. You really believed it, didn’t you? You really thought all that was possible? You thought I believed in it too?” She  _ tsk’d _ in disappointment. “I bet you even thought I-”

* * *

“Don’t say it,” Jaina pleaded, as her eyes started to well.

Thrall looked across the distance between them, his eyes glittering. “Oh, but I  _ want to, _ ” he told her, his voice filled with a menace - a menace  _ for her _ \- that she’d never heard, would never have imagined hearing. He took deliberate steps toward her as punctuation. “I bet you even thought  _ that I loved you, _ ” he said with obvious relish.

“Why are you  _ doing this? _ ” Jaina cried, as tears began to fall, as she struggled to hold it together.

* * *

“Because it  _ feels good  _ to admit it out loud!” Jaina said with a boisterous laugh. “To admit it at last. That I played you. That I’ve used you. All this time, in service to N’zoth’s will!” She held her arms out, a gesture at all she had wrought here.

“No,” Thrall sobbed, and fell to his knees.

Jaina strode confidently to Thrall, and tilted his chin up with a finger to look her in the face.

“I’ve never loved you,” she crowed.

* * *

Thrall stepped up to her, kneeling in the dirt, and used his hammer to rest his weight upon.

“I’ve never loved you,” he said cruelly.

* * *

Thrall stared at Jaina, in misery and shock, as the rain fell with his tears. Jaina looked down at him, triumphant and scornful.

* * *

Jaina stared at Thrall, in misery and shock, as the rain fell with her tears. Thrall looked down at her, smug and confident.

* * *

“No,” Thrall said.

* * *

“No,” Jaina said.

* * *

“What?” Jaina said, and blinked in confusion at Thrall, who had started to laugh, almost to hysterics, as he knelt in the rain. “What’s so funny?”

* * *

“What is it?” Thrall asked, confused as Jaina laughed, loud and hard, as she knelt in the rain. “What’s so amusing?”

* * *

“Because,” said Jaina-

* * *

“-there’s absolutely  _ no way-”  _ Thrall said-

* * *

“That Thrall doesn’t love  _ me _ , body and soul, with all his heart,” Jaina said, with increasing strength, as she rose back to her feet.

* * *

“That Jaina doesn’t love  _ me _ , then, now, with all her spirit,” Thrall said, as he stood and stared down Jai- whatever this was. “I know Jaina Proudmoore, with all my heart,” he assured it.

* * *

“I know Thrall, to my bones,” Jaina declared. “He would  _ never _ give up on us, on people. You are  _ not _ him.”

* * *

“Jaina will  _ always _ believe in people - to do better, to  _ be _ better. You are  _ not  _ her,” Thrall declared, steel in his voice and conviction in his heart.

Jaaina smiled, a wicked thing.

* * *

Thraall grinned at her, and it was terrible and threatening. “Can you bring yourself to slay me?” he asked.

* * *

“To slaughter the one you love  _ with all your spirit? _ ” Jaina asked him with curdled scorn. “I don’t think you can. I don’t think you  _ will _ .”

* * *

“I will do what I must,” Jaina said, as she took a steadying breath and flicked her fingers in defensive gestures that summoned shields and Bluey with barely an effort of will, and prepared to attack Thraall.

* * *

“I will do what I must,” Thrall promised Jaaina, and threw down his totems, then hefted Doomhammer across his shoulder, in preparation to swing.


	12. Chapter 12

In a courtyard in the Mage district of Stormwind, a solitary figure knelt in the centre of subdued action around them. Far away, at the end of a pier over a lake in the Valley of Honor, a similarly solitary figure knelt, alone while others worked nearby.

In Stormwind, guards searched for survivors, for those who had hidden in buildings or been captured for processing, escorting them to where they could receive aid and care. In Orgrimmar, Grunts tore apart cages and ripped out festering tentacles. In both cities, the lurid purple barrier was gone, and the people were safe.

In each, a hero sat broken. Forced to kill one who had looked like the one they had loved, forced to listen to their cries for mercy, to _stop_ , as they-

As they defeated an enemy.

Thrall and Jaina, separated by half a planet, hugged their knees and wept their silent, shared anguish upon the ground.


	13. Interlude

Everything was going according to plan the evening that an Old God let itself into the Strategic Foodstuff Reserve, on a tiny island in Kul Tiras, wearing Sylvanas like a coat.

It had been a simple matter to temporarily incapacitate the sole guard at the surface. Best not to raise too much attention too early - a missing guard would give up the game. The guard would be none the worse for wear in a few hours. Pity.

The flow of souls from the two most populous cities on Azeroth to fuel his scheme more than made up for leaving the guard. There was a warm glow in its belly when it thought about the power gathering in Icecrown. _Its_ power.

The Old God strode down the levels of the Reserve, ignoring the cries of recognition from a male prisoner halfway down. It was not troubled by such mundanities. Its quarry was at the very bottom of the shaft.

Down in the depths, where the Old God felt most at home, the thing wearing Sylvanas met Sylvanas.

“You’re not Jaina - what is this?” the spirit of Sylvanas demanded as the Old God came into view.

The Old God chuckled, and Sylvanas shivered at the sound of her own redolent, smug laughter coming from another. “Why, I am _you_ ,” the Old God purred.

“No, you’re not.” Sylvanas’ spirit folded her arms in annoyance. “You’re someone in possession of my body, nothing more.”

“You need not feign disinterest, nor hide your displeasure,” the Old God said. “There is irony in a banshee possessing an attitude of ownership to a physical host, however.”

“Why are you here?” Sylvanas’ spirit snarled through gritted teeth.

“I am N’zoth,” the thing wearing Sylvanas said with exquisite malice, “and I am here to make you an offer.”

“An Old God?” Sylvanas’s spirit raised a hand to her chest in shock, but quickly her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What offer?”

The Old God smiled with Sylvanas’ smile - delicate, dangerous, deadly. “How would you like to have your body back?”


	14. Chapter 14

A small rowboat bobbed across the waters of Tiragarde Sound, gently rocked by the ebb and flow of the ocean as it bore a lone person toward the Strategic Foodstuff Reserve.

When someone had tentatively approached her to see if she was alright, Jaina had fobbed them off with quiet, terse excuses. Eventually, she’d summoned enough of her self-control to make her escape, and she’d portalled home, to Kul Tiras.

Cyrus had tried to ask for her report on if the day was won, but Jaina had claimed an urgent need to consult with her prisoner, and requisitioned a rowboat. It only had room for one, and that suited her just fine right now.

She wanted to be alone.

The rowing was an old comfort, a familiar labour from her childhood, and she needed the time to try to begin to process what she’d had to do.

Kill Thrall.

Oh, it wasn’t _really_ Thrall, she knew that logically. But she hurt, all the same.

When, half an hour later, she reached the isle, it was to find a distressed Taelia at the front door.

Jaina braced herself. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Taelia looked miserable. “Sylvanas escaped,” she reported.

* * *

The atmosphere in Aludrassil was that of muted success. Anduin and Saurfang sat at the round table, paperwork arranged neatly before Anduin and crumpled in a frustrated manner before Saurfang. A half-dozen couriers and messengers were arrayed behind them both, coming and going as needed.

Thrall sighed heavily, then passed the trees that bordered the room. “I’m here,” he said, as he walked up behind Saurfang.

“Indeed,” Anduin said, as he looked up and across the table to Thrall. “Reports are that Stormwind and Orgrimmar are both free from their containment, but scant details other than that. I had hoped-” He cut off, as behind him, Jaina entered from the other side. “Excellent,” Anduin said. “As I was saying, I’d hoped to hear both of your reports on events.”

“We succeeded at Stormwind,” Thrall said flatly. “N’zoth’s forces were rounding up your people. Some he sacrificed on an altar. Others, he turned into monstrosities.” He risked a glance up at Jaina. She looked… harrowed, and was staring at the table. She hadn’t noticed his attention. He looked away.

“Orgrimmar was freed,” Jaina said in a small voice that clearly hid sadness. “The Twilight’s Hammer cultists were working to round up the population. I... “ Jaina paused, and swallowed. “I dealt with N’zoth’s lieutenant there, and the bubble dropped.”

Saurfang nodded. “And the cultists?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Jaina said. “The SI-7 agents handled it. You’ll have to ask them.”

Anduin frowned. This was unlike Jaina to be so sparse on detail. He turned to Thrall. “How many casualties were there in Stormwind, roughly?” he asked.

Thrall was silent for a moment. “The Grunts checked the other districts after I… handled… the commander of their forces in the Mage quarter,” he said. “You’d have to ask them for numbers. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Anduin said. “You saved my people - both of our people - and I’m grateful.”

There was a silence that almost dragged on too long before Jaina broke it. “There’s more,” she said flatly. “Taelia?”

From behind her, Taelia came forward and into the room. “Yes, Lord Admiral?”

“Tell them,” Jaina said.

“Yes, Lord Admiral,” Taelia said with a nod. “I was charged with guarding the prisoner Sylvanas Windrunner. I regret to inform you that… she has escaped.” She looked embarrassed momentarily, but pressed on. “I was guarding the entrance to the facility where she was being kept. I saw something approaching the island, skimming through the air, but felt an unnatural sleep descend on me before I could tell what or who it was.”

“You fell _asleep_?” Saurfang demanded.

“No, sir, I was ensorcelled. As I said, it was an _unnatural_ sleep.”

“Please, continue your report,” Anduin commanded.

Taelia nodded unhappily. “Yes, sir. I was shaken awake some time later. The sun was almost set, so I think an hour or two had passed. The person who woke me… it was the prisoner.”

“Sylvanas,” Saurfang said.

“Yes,” Taelia confirmed. “Sylvanas woke me, and told me N’zoth had set her free, and that she would not be caged again.”

“And then?” Anduin prompted.

Taelia shrugged. “Then she turned into purple smoke and streaked off toward the horizon before I could react.”

Everyone was quiet for a minute, as they processed the news. Thrall looked over to Jaina, to find her looking at him, distraught. In a panic, they both broke the gaze, and looked elsewhere. Saurfang looked at the table. “There probably isn’t too much to be done about her right now,” he finally said. “We’ve won a battle with N’zoth, but the war remains.”

Anduin nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. Sylvanas is a problem for tomorrow,” he decided. He looked at Thrall and Jaina. He was troubled by their attitudes here. “I would advise rest. You’ve done great work the last few days. Tomorrow we’ll reconvene, and plan our next steps.” Anduin rose from the table, and made his exit, messengers following him.

“Lord Admiral,” Taelia said, as she made her withdrawal.

“Warchief,” Saurfang nodded, then left.

Suddenly the room was empty, except for Thrall and Jaina. The silence dragged on, only the distant noise of birds to be heard, until it stretched to near breaking.

“I had to do it,” Thrall said into the chasm between them, and Jaina’s eyes snapped up to him. She realised immediately what he meant, what N’zoth had made him do. She asked anyway.

“Do what, Thrall?”

“Please don’t make me say it, Jaina.”

“You have to,” Jaina said miserably. “You, me. _We_ need to talk about it.”

Thrall looked up at her then, and saw it plain across her face. “You know, somehow. Don’t you?”

Jaina nodded. “I had to do it too.” Tears welled in her eyes.

Thrall’s heart shattered. “Oh, Jaina, no! I-” He took half a step toward her, but Jaina took half a step back.

“No, Thrall. _Say it._ ” she pleaded.

Thrall took a deep breath and found it ragged. “I had to _kill you_ , Jaina. It had your face, and your voice.”

“It wasn’t me,” Jaina said.

“I know. But I had to raise my hammer against you, and-” Thrall felt his cheeks run wet with his own tears.

Jaina looked at him a moment, miserable. “I had to kill you, Thrall,” she said in a small voice. “It looked like you, it sounded like you, and I had to- I had to _shatter_ you with ice and fire.”

Thrall took a steadying breath or three. “It wasn’t me,” he said.

“I know,” Jaina said. “N’zoth peddles in corruption. He forced us to face the one we loved the most, fallen to his side.”

“You make it sound easy-” Thrall began.

“It was _anything but easy!_ ” Jaina cried in sudden righteous anger. “It was the _hardest thing I’ve ever done!_ I knew it wasn’t you, not truly _you_ , but it _hurt_ , Thrall!”

“I know!” Thrall cried out “I would rather tear out my own heart than see you hurt by my hand, but I had to pick up my hammer and cave its skull in, and it begged and pleaded for me to stop _in your voice_ and I- I-” Thrall broke off, and sobbed.

The two of them looked at each other, both miserable, both suffering. Then, as if by a prearranged signal, they both moved toward each other, and wrapped their arms around each other in a tight bear hug.

“I’m sorry,” Thrall said.

“I’m sorry,” Jaina said.

“It’s alright, I’m here,” Thrall assured her.

“It’s okay, I’m safe,” Jaina replied.

“You lived,” Thrall noted.

“You’re here,” Jaina said.

They tilted their heads in a way that was familiar to them both, and kissed - gently, softly, a tentative questing for something soft, familiar, safe.

“You’re shaking,” Jaina pointed out.

“You can barely stand upright,” Thrall replied.

“It’s been a bad day,” Jaina said with a shaky voice. “I have rooms here, in Aludrassil. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“I agree with you, in all respects,” Thrall said. “This has been enough of a nightmare for a lifetime.”

They stood there a moment.

“You’ll have to let me go,” Jaina finally said.

“I don’t want to,” Thrall replied, but he broke the hug, and let her head him back to her room.

* * *

In the middle of the night, when Thrall dreamt of that courtyard of cultivated tentacles, he thrashed in the bed they shared. Jaina rolled against him, and curled an arm around him, and Thrall stilled, and his dreams turned to things more pleasant.

When, later, Jaina twisted the sheets as she writhed while a nightmare had her thrown in a cage in Orgrimmar for sacrifice or worse, Thrall’s hand found hers, and in her sleep she squeezed it tight, and she broke free from her cage, and free of the nightmares.

Thus did they look out for each other, as they always would.


	15. Chapter 15

Jaina woke up slowly from the closest thing she’d had to a good night’s sleep in weeks. She stretched, as her leg vibrated against the bed, and knocked her arm into someone lying next to her-

_Ahh, right_ , she thought. _Thrall._

She heard him grunt as she extricated herself from bed, and padded across the room to make some tea. By the time she was done, Thrall was awake, and pulling on his clothes - his ‘Im a very important Warchief’ ensemble, as she’d once dared to call it to his face. “Leaving so soon?” she asked, aiming for playful.

Thrall nodded toward the curtained window. “We’re late,” he said. “Today’s meeting will have started already.”

Jaina looked at the window, then back to Thrall, crestfallen. “Well, damn,” she said. “I was hoping to spend some more time with you.”

Thrall looked up from his boot laces at her, and smiled. “I promise, we’ll _make_ the time - I’d like nothing more than to spend the entire day holed up in here with you.”

Jaina nodded. She, too, knew the burdens of leadership. “But this is important,” she said.

“Yes,” Thrall agreed. “But you - _us_ \- this is important, too.”

“So we’ll make the time?”

“We’ll make the time,” Thrall said, and examined himself in the mirror, apparently satisfied. “You’ll want to get dressed too, though.”

Jaina wolfed down her tea, then set about snatching up her clothes from the floor.

* * *

When they arrived at the meeting - neglecting to come in from opposite sides of the room in their hurry - it was with the embarrassment of being the last to class, half an hour after it had started. Anduin, Genn, Tyrande, Saurfang, Talanji, Baine, Y’mera, Taelia - all their conversations had stilled, and they all watched the two slink in.

Saurfang eyed Thrall speculatively as he circled around from the Alliance side of the table to take a seat next to the High Warlord. “You look a lot better today, Warchief,” he said. “Seems last night did you a lot of good.”

“You have no idea,” Thrall began, before he noticed Saurfang snickering. “Not like that. Stop that.”

Anduin turned from where he’d been whispering to Jaina, and coughed loud enough to be heard. “Welcome back, Lord Admiral, Warchief. I’m pleased to see that you are both doing better for the night’s rest. Forgive us for having made a start in your absence, but time waits for no-one.”

“Of course, King Anduin,” Thrall said. “Have you made much progress?”

Saurfang made a disgusted noise. “Not much at all,” he said.

Anduin nodded in agreement. “We began collating the information we have at our disposal, and frankly, it’s not much. We still know too little about N’zoth’s intentions and plans, except that we’re unlikely to enjoy how they turn out. We know there’s a base in Icecrown, but as for the disposition of forces, none of our scouts have reported back.”

“They aren’t going to,” a honeyed voice spoke from beyond the trees that bordered the room. “N’zoth is sly, and corruptive. Your scouts are already lost.”

Thrall frowned. “Who are you?” he asked, turning towards the source. The voice sounded familiar.

A form slithered forward, with tentacle hair and too many eyes. “Not who I seem,” she purred into the shocked silence.

“It would seem,” Jaina said after a moment, “that you are Queen Azshara.”

“It’s so nice to be recognised,” the intruder mused, “but perhaps it would be unwise to continue drawing attention.” She waved a hand over herself, and transformed. In her place was no longer a naga, but a tall night elf, beautiful and terrible, a figure for men and women to lust over and dash themselves upon rocks for. Long legs, plump lips, a full bust, and all accentuated by her attire to hint at even more.

“You call that _not drawing attention?_ ” Thrall muttered under his breath.

“I am Xal’atath,” she said, ignoring the comments and stares. “Once known as the Blade of the Black Empire.”

“You are a tool of the Old Gods!” Talanji cried out, above the sudden babble of voices at the table.

“She cannot be trusted!” Tyrande cried out. Genn drew a sword. Saurfang threw his arm across Thrall for the second time this week in an attempt to protect him, and Y’mera pulled a communicator out and began whispering curtly into it.

Xal’atath raised a hand, and the babbling volume muted. “So much better,” she murmured pleasantly. “I _was_ a tool of the Old Gods, this is true. I have sowed chaos in my wake throughout the aeons, oh ho ho, yes I have.” Her laugh bubbled up like a fizzy drink. “But, this time, my delightful mortals, I have come to spill N’zoth’s secrets to you, like this form spills from this dress.” She smirked across the table at them all as she slid sensuously into the Arbiter’s seat, neatly between the Horde and Alliance groups.

“If you have something _useful_ to say, then do so,” Anduin said. “But don’t waste our time, or I may let Genn have his way.”

Genn grinned nastily across the table.

Xal’atath sighed theatrically as she placed her feet upon the table. “Oh, very well,” she said airily. “N’zoth needed a font of power for his plans, even beyond that he wields innately. For this purpose, he ensnared your capitals - the places with the highest density of mortal, sentient life - and began to drain them.”

“That’s what those sacrifices I saw were,” Thrall said.

“Oh, _yes,_ their souls are gone now,” Xal’atath purred. “Fodder for the machine. Grist for the gears.”

“Take care, Xal’atath,” Anduin said. “You speak of our people.”

Xal’atath studied the King for a moment, then flicked her hand in a gesture of acquiescence. “Of course. To simplify it for you, he has used your people to empower a battery, or a capacitor of sorts, in Icecrown. The place you call Ymirheim.” She gestured again, and an image appeared, hovering over the table of the once-abandoned Vrykul town.

The town was covered in a similar violet bubble to the ones that had contained Stormwind and Orgrimmar only a day earlier. N’zoth’s forces shuffled about, constructing defenses and patrolling the grounds. At the exact centre of the bubble, something was being constructed, or growing - it was fuzzy, and difficult to look at, eyes sliding off and looking elsewhere as if compelled.

“Beautiful, is it not? Xal’atath purred. “A creation borne of N’zoth’s full genius, married with his will.” She smirked at them all. “That is what you must target. That is what you must destroy, if you are to stop an Old God.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Tyrande spoke into the expectant silence.

“The Old Gods cannot be trusted, and that goes for their tools as well,” Talanji declared.

“It’s a good point,” Jaina said. “Your motives for siding with us against your creators - or your peers, perhaps? - remains unclear.”

Xal’atath wagged a finger at Jaina reproachfully. “A decent try, but you just keep wondering about my nature, there’s a good girl.” She looked around the table, and sighed dramatically. “I suppose a certain level of distrust is to be expected. I’ll take it as a compliment on the quality of my past works.”

“You can take it however you want,” Thrall growled. “But you still haven’t given us a single reason to trust you. Or explained how it is that you aren’t a dagger, instead of the second hottest person in the room.”

Xal’atath looked slighted, and Jaina beamed across the table at Thrall. Several others stifled giggles. “We’ll see about that, mortal,” she said, her cloying voice hiding steel. “It is true that N’zoth freed me from the blade, and granted me this physical form,” she allowed, and gestured at herself with a hand. “It is true that escaping the blade has long been a goal of mine, and that I am at last free to enact my will with my _own_ hands, instead of through those who held me.”

“Your words do not reassure us,” Y’mera said.

“Consider this, then - what use is flesh of my own if physical reality is about to end?”

Once more the room burst into a babble of conversation. Once more, Xal’atath silenced it with a hand.

“Explain yourself,” Anduin ordered.

“N’zoth seeks apotheosis, little mortals.” She tapped her nose thoughtfully. “Well, as much as one who is already a god _can_ seek to ascend. You see, the way into the Shadowlands has been laid bare.” She raised a finger, and sketched a hole in the sky. “Now, the normal methods of entry - those would make one subject to its rule, to its processes, the interminable machinery of what you so ignorantly call _the afterlife._ ” She laughed, delighted at the stupidity of mortals.

“You’re saying it’s found a way around that,” Jaina said.

“There are only three of your charming kind who have gained a foothold, however slight, on the impetus that powers that place,” Xal’atath purred. “N’zoth laid claim on one of them.”

“Sylvanas,” Genn growled, always eager to curse her by name.

Xal’atath nodded. “He has pressed this advantage, and used it to lever open the way for him to enter in a position of unassailable authority, of power commensurate to that he wields here. He will crack the Shadowlands open, drain its marrow and drink it dry, and, with the so-called afterlife within his ambit, he will break not only Azeroth, but your entire mundane reality apart, leaving a bent and broken corpse, rent asunder and strewn upon the skein of the Great Dark Beyond.”

Saurfang looked around the table, at the shocked faces. “So…. that’s bad,” he said.

“Yes, that’s bad,” Thrall said.

“You mentioned Sylvanas. Do you know about her escape? N’zoth was behind it,” Jaina pressed.

Xal’atath shook her head. “I know nothing of that matter, save that while Sylvanas’ body served well to open the way, it would be useless for walking it.”

Jaina glanced at Taelia questioningly. The guard shrugged. “I interrogated Nathanos as you asked last night. He knew nothing about Sylvanas’ escape.” She paused musingly. “Nothing _useful,_ in any case. Spent most of the time wailing about how his ‘beloved’ had ignored him as she stalked past, actually.”

“To be clear about this,” Jaina said, as she turned back to Xal’atath. “You’re saying that N’zoth is growing a new body for itself? That taking Sylvanas’ body was merely a stepping stone to its actual goal?”

Xal’atath shrugged, a calculatedly casual gesture. “For the purposes of your limited understanding? Yes.”

Thrall looked at Xal’atath, sized her up, and made a decision. “I think we should believe her,” he said.

Anduin glanced toward him. “I think I agree, but I’d like to hear your reasoning,” he said.

“It’s simple,” Thrall said with a shrug. “She doesn’t want to die along with us ‘mere mortals’ when reality dies.”

“Finally,” Xal’atath breathed. “Something resembling _sense._ ”

“She may want to ascend in N’zoth’s place, though,” Thrall added as if she had not spoken.

“Oh.” Xal’atath pouted in disappointment. “And we were getting along _so_ well.”

“I must confess,” Jaina interjected. “I was aware of the new body N’zoth is growing, and why N’zoth needed Sylvanas’ body.”

Genn turned to face her. “What? How?” he growled.

“Intelligence, Genn,” Jaina said, and did her best to refrain from adding that he was welcome to find some. “Xal’atath’s testimony aligns with what I have learnt elsewhere. She may very well be telling us the truth.”

“So we keep an eye on her, verify her information, and in the meanwhile, plan as if this information is valid?” Anduin asked.

“It seems the wisest course,” Thrall said.

“Alright then. We’ll need a map of Icecrown, with Ymirheim centered,” Saurfang said, and looked expectantly toward the Old God tool that has commandeered their meeting.

Xal’atath rolled her eyes. “Oh, very well,” she said, and flicked her wrist. An image of Icecrown formed across the breadth of the table.

Saurfang grunted, and began pointing at the map. “There are two main approaches to Ymirheim, if I recall the Northrend campaign correctly - through Corp’rethar, the Horror Gate, in the southwest, and through Aldur’thar, the Desolation Gate, from the north.”

“N’zoth will have fortified these approaches,” Tyrande said.

“Yes,” Saurfang agreed. “The battle will be hard fought on these two fronts.” He eyed Y’mera speculatively. “I have yet to see the Vindicaar in action with my own eyes. Can you be relied on for air support?”

Y’mera pulled herself up straight. “Yes,” she said simply. “We have a complement of Warframes - Vindicators who can be air-dropped in - and the ship’s own weaponry.”

Saurfang looked at her again, impressed. “That sounds incredibly useful. Alright, the Vindicaar can provide air support, and oversee target of opportunity attacks.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Unfortunately, all our Gunships are grounded for repairs,” he admitted.

“What a surprise,” Genn growled across the table.

“Two approaches, two armies,” Anduin mused. “I suppose the Alliance can take the Corp’rethar assault from the southwest, and the Horde can handle the northern attack from Aldur’thar. If you agree?”

Thrall looked at Saurfang, who nodded. “Agreed,” he said.

“I’d like this plan better if there were an approach to our objective - this new body for N’zoth - that didn’t involve throwing soldiers into the grinder,” Tyrande noted.

“I might have an idea for that,” Jaina said. “It’s of no use for an army, but there _is_ an access shaft from Mord’rethar, the Death Gate.” She gestured to the southeastern edge of Ymirheim. “The gate itself is at too low an elevation for normal access, but a small team could sneak in, especially if there’s an open assault from the other two gates in progress.”

“Who would you suggest for this mission?” Anduin asked.

Jaina squared her shoulders. “I’ll take it,” she said. “I know the way. One or two SI-7 agents.”

“Are you sure? That sounds like a great risk,” Anduin asked.

“I’ll go with her,” Thrall declared.

“Wha- Warchief!” Saurfang yelled, shocked. “You can’t-”

“I’m going,” Thrall repeated, and looked across the table at Jaina. “I won’t lose you again,” he said.

“Again?” Talanji frowned.

“I’ll bring a few Grunts along. The ones who came back from Stormwind.” He looked across the table at the Alliance contingent. “We _will_ keep each other safe.”

Jaina nodded. “Sounds fine. We’ll sneak in, and do whatever we can to take out N’zoth’s new body before it can use it. With any luck, the armies can then withdraw with minimal casualties.”

“Alright then,” Anduin said. “It sounds like we have our plan.” He clapped his hands together. “I’ll arrange for some scouts to confirm the intel Xal’atath has brought us.”

Xal’atath rolled her eyes.

“Genn, Tyrande, I want you both to coordinate our assault on Corp’rethar,” Anduin added.

“Of course,” Tyrande replied.

“My pleasure,” Genn snarled.

“Varok, you’ll lead our attack on Aldur’thar. Talanji and Baine will be your generals.”

“Of course, Warchief,” Saurfang said.

“I will see the Vindicaar into battle personally,” Y’mera said.

“Excellent,” Anduin noted. “In the meantime, there are logistics matters to organise, and much to do. I suggest we get to it.”

“We can do this,” Thrall said. “We’ve beaten countless existential threats before. This is but another. N’zoth _will_ fall.”

Xal’atath clapped her hands politely. “Oh, _bravo,_ ” she said. “I feel so inspired.”

“I’m afraid I will have to insist you stay with us for now, Xal’atath,” Anduin said. “We’ll have a room assigned to you while you stay here.”

“Oh, dear, what a bore,” Xal’atath said. “Very well.”

“Alright then,” Thrall said. “Let’s be about it.”


	16. Chapter 16

Above Icecrown, the Vindicaar moved into position, hidden from direct view of Ymirheim by a mountain peak. On the bridge, Archmage Y’mera stood centre stage, with King Anduin to the side - he’d noted that the best vantage point to oversee the operation was from high above it, and that he was safer here than down on the ground when Genn objected.

“Reports from the ground,” Vindicator Jaelaana reported from her station. “Alliance forces are in place to assault Corp’rethar. Horde forces will be in place within five minutes to assault Aldur’thar.”

Y’mera nodded. “And the strike team at Mord’rethar?”

She shook her head. “Still waiting for them to report in,” Jaelaana replied.

Anduin had moved towards the large forward window, and looked out as the Vindicaar began to peek out from its mountainous cover. On the right, he could see the tiny dots of the Horde forces, climbing onto the plateau of Aldur’thar. Below them, he could just make out Mord’rethar at the lip of the window. And ahead, coming into view, was their target.

Ymirheim, once a mining town of the Vrykul, now a fortress for an Old God.

Anduin took a steadying breath. “There’s our goal,” he said, gesturing at the ruined town below. The virulent purple bubble they’d seen before was gone now, and they had clear sight of the array and scope of forces N’zoth had gathered to his defense.

Y’mera nodded. “That is the city we must take today at all costs,” she agreed, and turned to a vindicator working a control panel to her left. “Pilot,” she commanded. “Sound battle alert through the ship. Take us to engagement range.” She turned back to the window as behind her, she heard the alarm sound, and felt the rattle through the deck plates as the Vindicaar began to move.

“Into the maw of N’zoth,” she murmured to herself.

* * *

At the plateau of Corp’rethar, the Alliance army stood, waiting for the signal to charge valiantly into battle.

“We have already lost Teldrassil,” Tyrande was yelling over the gathered forces. “We have lost homes, and loved ones. But I tell you that if we do not triumph here, today, that  _ we stand to lose everything! _ ”

“Our goal is to reach the ruins behind us!” Genn cried out. “We  _ must _ make it across the viaduct to Ymirheim, and bring down whatever vile  _ thing _ is birthing there!”

“N’zoth will throw everything he has at us,” Tyrande cautioned them. “Do not be deceived. He is in a fight for his life, and will stop at  _ nothing _ to delay us in our mission.”

“But you are steadfast men and women of the Alliance!” Genn rallied. “Men and women of pure hearts and strong swords! And I know you will make us all proud this day! Today, we save our families, our loved ones! Today we save  _ the world! _ ”

“For Azeroth!  _ Bandu Thoribas! _ ” Tyrande cried.

“For Azeroth!” Genn yelled, and threw his hands wide.

The gathered forces of the Alliance roared back a battle cry at them in response.

Genn leant close to Tyrande, and dropped his voice low. “If we don’t have this sorted while the idiot Horde forces are still getting ground to paste at Aldur’thar, I’ll eat my hat.”

Tyrande smiled grimly. The two had found some common ground in their continued mistrust of the Horde. “And leave you without a hat?” she asked, and looked skyward.

“I wish they would signal us to begin,” Genn complained, as he followed her gaze.

“Any minute now, I’m sure,” Tyrande assured him.

* * *

“Our goal lies across this bridge!” Saurfang shouted. “Today, brave warriors of the Horde, we fight not just for honour, but for the lives of our people! Storm their defenses! Take their grounds! For the Horde! Lok’tar Ogar!” He raised his axe and beat it against a shield, and the gathered forces of the Horde before him responded in kind.

“That’s a  _ lot _ of defenses to storm, even without the barrier,” Baine said, as he nudged Saurfang for attention.

“Hmm?” Saurfang looked over his shoulder in the direction of Ymirheim, then turned to look closer. Baine was right. He could see shambling horrors wheeling monstrosities of wood and metal towards where the bridge landed on the far side of the canyon.

Saurfang looked grimly at Baine and Talanji. “Then we’ll just have to fight that much harder,” he said. “You both know the stakes if we fail here.”

Talanji nodded. “The end of us all,” she said.

Saurfang nodded. “So let’s show them what we think of that.” He turned back to the army. “Raise your weapons!” he yelled. “On my command!” He turned, and looked to the east, to find the Vindicaar in the sky, coming closer.

* * *

Jaina scouted ahead of their small group, her spellwork granting her just enough invisibility to check for any guards or patrols ahead before they moved forward as a group. The entrance to Mord’rethar was cold, cavernous, and unguarded.

Inside, however, was another story.

While it was not heavily fortified, it was clear that N’zoth had some use for the cavern. Workers of some sort shuffled back and forth, and stood at desks with bubbling flasks, while a lone guard patrolled the space, with another standing in place at the rear of the room.

“I only see two guards,” Taelia whispered.

“I agree,” Jaina said. “This shouldn’t be too hard at all.” She led them towards the side of the room, carefully avoiding the workers. Thrall followed first, then Taelia, then the SI-7 agents and the Grunts in the rear. There was one tense moment when a worker glanced their way, perhaps having heard their footsteps, but it returned to its work without investigating further, and Jaina breathed a sigh of relief.

They worked their way around, until they had a view of the lift shaft upwards - that would take them up to Ymirheim. Around it were arrayed a maze of workbenches, a couple of workers, and a guard at the cage door around the lift shaft itself.

“Okay, we’re here,” Jaina whispered. “Time to start the show.” She glanced at Thrall, who nodded agreement, then towards the cavernous entrance. She gestured at the ceiling, and a subdued pulse of light flew up, then skimmed the ceiling like a rock across a pond, and made its way outside. Once outside, it would rise up, its brilliance growing sharply. A signal for the others.

“Now we wait,” Thrall rumbled.

* * *

As the Vindicaar approached Ymirheim, a bright light streaked into the sky, flaring blue and red before it faded out.

“They’re in place,” Anduin said, as he pointed toward the light.

“Indeed,” Y’mera said. “Signal the Alliance and Horde forces,” she called across the bridge. “Battle begins. May the Light shield us.”

In the viewscreen, Ymirheim loomed closer.

* * *

Baine looked up at Saurfang and nodded.

“It’s time!” Saurfang shouted, and turned from his forces to face the enemy, across the bridge. “Lok’tar Ogar! For the Horde!” He raised his axe high, and around him, Grunts swam forward as a roaring, rising tide toward Ymirheim, storming the bridge across the chasm below.

In answer to the surging forces, Saurfang heard the telltale sound of artillery fire from across the way. A moment later, explosions began to rip into his men. The tide of grunts pushed harder, filling in the gaps left by the fallen. They were gaining ground, but it was costing them in lives by the second.

“This is a slaughter,” Talanji said.

“We  _ need _ to cross that bridge,” Saurfang countered. He turned to the Grunts passing him on each side. “Keep charging!” he exhorted them.

“We’d better get through soon,” Baine observed.

* * *

“The signal,” Tyrande said, as she scanned the sky. She turned to her Sentinels. “Andu-falah-dor!” They pulled their weapons close, and turned to the bridge that would take them to Ymirheim.

Genn grunted in satisfaction. “Finally,” he grated, and turned to the Alliance soldiers. “Begin the assault!” he cried, gesturing towards the bridge, and felt his pulse quicken as the charge began. “This is going to get bloody,” he said, as their forces pushed forward.

“You sound almost pleased about that,” Tyrande said.

“I am,” Genn said, smug. “Our forces will fight well, and proudly - but look at the defenses.”

Tyrande blinked at him. “We’ve scouted out siege towers and monstrous soldiers of tentacles and bone. Did I miss something?”

Genn shook his head. “Not with what we’re facing- oh, there we go,” he said, as the siege towers began to fire on their troops, as they reached the halfway point across the viaduct. “But look over there, to the left. Look at the Horde forces.” He spoke the name of the other faction like a curse.

Tyrande looked over the vast distance of Icecrown towards their associates in this assault. “They’re being fired on too- Oh, I see.”

Genn nodded in grim satisfaction. “The Horde are copping it far worse than we are. I suspect our enemy expected us to assault from the north only, and rushed these defenses into place after our encampment here was spotted.” An explosion sounded, temporarily interrupting their conversation, as part of the bridge was hit.

“Many Horde will die this day,” Tyrande said.

“I bloody well hope so,” Genn replied.

* * *

“Open the launch bay doors,” Y’mera ordered as the Vindicaar made its final approach to Ymirheim. “Instruct the Vindicators to deploy.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jaelaana called from over at the console she worked with quick fingers. A few moments passed. “The Protector reports all Warframes are deployed and in flight.”

“Good,” Y’mera said, examining the field of battle through the front window. On the left, Warframes could be seen streaming out, engaging with the few anti-air defenses that fired back. The Alliance were making good progress in their assault - they would have their beachhead soon enough. The Horde forces, however... “This is not good,” she murmured.

Anduin caught it, and followed her gaze. “The Horde assault?” he asked.

Y’mera nodded. “Look at the firepower being brought to bear on them. It significantly outweighs that being deployed against the Alliance approach. We risk losing the northern assault entirely.”

Anduin frowned. “Can your Warframes take out the siege towers there? Provide them some cover?”

“Perhaps,” Y’mera mused. “Let me see if-”

“Archmage!” Jaelaana called out. “In the centre of town!”

Y’mera spun to look towards the Ymirheim town centre. Purple blotches rose from the ground, long spikes protruding to each side. They turned toward the Warframes, then accelerated toward them.

“Alert the Warframes!” Y’mera cried, then turned to Anduin. “It looks like N’zoth has air forces of his own. I fear they’ll pin down our Vindicators too long to assist. But there is another possibility...”

Anduin looked at her, curious.

* * *

Jaina and Thrall stood at the head of their group, waiting. From above, the sounds of distant combat drifted down the lift shaft.

“Are you sure it’ll work?” Taelia asked quietly after a minute. “They’re showing no sign of moving-”

At that very moment, the shambling guards startled as if prodded with a hot brand, then turned to the lift shaft. With new vigor, they corralled the workers onto the platform, then escorted them up the lift shaft.

“It’s always when they ask,” Jaina said to Thrall with a smile.

“She’s right, you know,” Thrall whispered to Taelia. “It always is.”

Taelia looked at them both. “If you’re done flirting,” she said mildly. From behind them all, there was the noise of something suspiciously like murmured agreement from the Grunts and the SI-7 agents.

“Oh, let it go,” Jaina said. “The important thing is that they’ve left. The battle must have pulled them away. Now we can follow them up.” She led the motley crew toward the lift shaft, where they waited for the platform to slowly descend toward them.

“What if something’s  _ on _ the platform when it comes back down?” Taelia asked.

“There won’t be,” Jaina said.

“But what if there  _ is? _ ” Taelia insisted.

“There won’t be,” Thrall said.

“You’re going to make me fight them, aren’t you?” Taelia asked, her eyes on the approaching platform.

“Nonsense,” Jaina said. “We’re going to fight them with you.”

“Oh good,” Taelia said. “That makes me feel so much better.”

“You’ve grown snarky,” Jaina observed.

“Can’t imagine where I learnt that from, Lord Admiral,” Taelia deadpanned.

“I think she’s being snarky again,” Thrall said.

“Thank you, my Heart, I did notice that,” Jaina said, sugary sweet.

“You’re welcome,” Thrall replied.

“Shh,” Taelia said. “It’s almost here.”

Despite the lighthearted assurances, Jaina and Thrall moved to cover on either side of the lift shaft, the Grunts and Agents splitting evenly with both, as the platform arrived. It was, blessedly, empty.

“Don’t say it,” Taelia said as they all filed onto the platform.

“I was-”

“Don’t.”

Jaina grinned, and threw the switch to raise them up the shaft.

* * *

“You can’t be serious,” Genn said, as his anger spiked.

“The encryption would indicate the legitimacy of this message,” Tyrande said, her hands balled into fists. “We are to secure our beachhead, and then  _ prioritise eliminating defensive fire on Horde forces _ .” She made a face.

“We’re to hold their hands -  _ protect _ them?” Genn snarled.

Tyrande took a deep breath. “You yourself noted the overwhelming force they are facing. And these  _ are _ valid instructions.” She swore in Darnassian. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”

“I don’t like this  _ at all, _ ” Genn roared. “As a matter of fact, I  _ hate _ it.”

Tyrande looked out across the field. They had pushed across the viaduct, and were forming their beachhead to push in through Ymirheim. “We can’t  _ pretend _ we didn’t receive the message,” she said.

Genn’s eyes glinted. “Can’t we?” he asked.

Tyrande gave him a measured look.

* * *

“We can’t keep this up,” Baine said warningly.

Saurfang cast his gaze over the field of battle. The tauren wasn’t wrong. They were pushing across the bridge, slowly gaining ground, but he could see they would run out of Grunts before they could make it all the way across.

They were losing.

Saurfang looked up at the sky. In the distance, he could see the curious flying contraptions of the Lightforged, duelling it out with a small fleet of flying Old God monstrosities. They would be no help.

“Damn it, Thrall,” he cursed. “We can’t  _ afford _ to lose this one. We can’t afford  _ not _ to fight.” If they lost, they would lose everything. But they were losing everything anyway.

Saurfang made up his mind. He opened his mouth to issue his orders.

“Wait!” Talanji cried. “Look! To the east!”

Saurfang spun, and stared out over the canyon where she pointed. A cluster of siege towers, pointed at the frontline of their forces, was firing once more.

As Saurfang watched, he saw one of the towers keel over and collapse under its own weight. Milling at its base were some men, in grey and blue. Behind them, elven archers in hoods and leather armor.

“I don’t believe it,” Saurfang marvelled as another tower fell. “Is that Tyrande?”

It was indeed Tyrande, he decided. Tyrande Whisperwind, leading a small strike team to take out the siege equipment that were decimating his forces.

Turning to the Grunts still around him, Saurfang smiled. He was not going to look a gift Sentinel in the mouth - not right now. “Charge forward!” he shouted. “For the Horde!”

* * *

“We’ve reached our battle station, orbiting Ymirheim’s perimeter,” Jaelaana called out.

“Open fire with all batteries,” Y’mera ordered. “Bring those aerial fighters down - we need air superiority. Have the Warframes kite them into range.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jaelaana replied, then keyed her console rapidly.

“I see the message got through,” Anduin noted. “The Horde have been able to establish their own beachhead.”

“And not a moment too soon,” Y’mera said. “I doubt they could have kept up their assault much longer.”

“I had faith in my people,” Anduin said. “I knew they would do what needed to be done.”

“And now so must we,” Y’mera said, gazing over the battlefield below. She noticed something and frowned. “Scan sector D-D-6,” she ordered.

“What is it?” Anduin asked.

“I am not sure,” Y’mera said. “But it looks like some kind of large construct, or artefact - two of them - and I do not like it.”

“Scans are reporting some kind of explosive,” Jaelaana reported. “No more detail than that.”

“Nalanora aca!” Y’mera cursed. “Signal the Warframe Protector. We  _ must _ stop it!”

As Jaelaana obeyed, Anduin shook his head. “They won’t get there in time,” he said sadly. “Look.”

Below, as Y’mera looked, the two constructs split up, one being wheeled toward each of the beachheads they had clawed on to.

“She will get there. She  _ must _ ,” Y’mera said.

Y’mera hoped.

* * *

On the grounds of Ymirheim, as the chaos of battle raged around, an elf so beautiful it almost hurt to look upon her slinked across the field of conflict, practically unnoticed.

Xal’atath grimaced as she stepped gracefully over the corpse of a horrorterror, her dress only just brushing the ground. “Terribly gauche,” she said out loud, though she went unheard. “This mundane display of brute force. Unbecoming for an Old God, I would have thought?” She ducked under a siege contraption, on its way to the Alliance front, and darted around a squad of betentacled constructs marching towards the Horde. “”But I suppose that this bit of mummery has delayed the mortals here well enough, hmm?”

She received no answer, of course. Her ambit was absolute, now, and she hid within it from N’zoth’s gaze as she slinked across the ruins he had claimed as his. Escaping from her confinement among the mortals had been orders of magnitude easier.

“Who would have thought it would come to this?” she purred as she circled around the focus of N’zoth’s will here, the elaborate growth in the very centre of this ruined town. “Me, an elegant construct of the Black Empire. You, one of the Old Gods who ruled. And out there...” She flung a hand outward, to the southwest and north. “A multitude of those incessant, annoyingly  _ resilient _ mortals.” She laughed, the sound silvery and crystalline against the backdrop of war. “And I am siding with  _ them. _ ” She strode on from the growth, her gaze falling on the two wheeled artefacts being pushed towards their destination. Madness bombs, of a sort. The inevitable defeat of the mortal assault.

“You should never have freed me from the blade,” Xal’atath whispered.

She sauntered up to the madness artifact on the left, curving away from its partner towards the southwest. She moved lithely through the horrorterrors that escorted it toward the throng of mortals caught between the viaduct behind them and the entrenched Old God before them. She reached out with a hand, caressed the smooth, curved surface of the artefact, and concentrated.

The artifact cracked like an egg, bright purple spilling luridly through the shell, as around her the escort panicked and fled in every direction.

“One down,” she sang, and turned toward the other. Perhaps having sensed something was going on, its escord had sped up the pace, and Xal'atath annoyingly found herself having to trot to catch it.

“Never make a woman chase you down,” she said, her voice like ice, though as before no one heard her. She thrust her hand against the second artifact, and with a snarl, she concentrated. This one exploded into pieces, shrapnel flying everywhere but where she stood.

The escort collapsed, struck down by the blast. Xal’atath dusted off her hands, and made a pleased noise at the tingle down her arm. “That was a pleasurable bit of power you had there, N’zoth,” she purred. “I’ll take it.”

With a final glance around the battlefield, Xal’atath stepped sideways, and disappeared.

* * *

The lift platform clanked as the locks engaged, and Jaina and Thrall stepped into madness.

“This doesn’t look good,” Thrall said.

“I have to agree,” Jaina shouted back over the din.

Around them was minor chaos, as N’zoth’s troops - for lack of a better term for the shambling monstrosities he clearly favoured using - moved back and forth, as war machina shuffled into firing positions. Jaina looked towards the expected front lines, and saw to her relief that both the Horde and the Alliance forces had secured their footholds on Ymirheim itself.

Unfortunately, that was all. N’zoth had used the time holding the viaduct bridges well, and shored up the defensive lines around their respective landings. Neither Horde nor Alliance has been able to gain more ground than that.

Jaina double-checked her stealth spellwork, and led their group off the lift platform and into cover. They hadn’t been noticed yet, but that could change any time.

“It doesn’t change our mission,” Thrall said. “Get to this body N’zoth is growing. Stop it, somehow.”

“Can you see where it is?” Jaina asked. The Grunts and SI-7 agents began sweeping the battlefield.

“If I had to guess,” Taelia said dryly, “it’s probably that giant, pulsating, tentacle mass in the centre of town.” She pointed.

Jaina and Thrall looked across town, then at each other. “She’s probably right,” Thrall said.

“She probably is, damn it,” Jaina sighed. “Alright. With me!” Readying her staff, Jaina stalked out from their cover, carefully leading them towards the throbbing mass of flesh that spilled over the town centre, through narrow alleys and around angular streets.

“Lord Admiral!” Taelia hissed out, and Jaina stopped in her tracks. Ahead, a siege engine was being escorted to the front lines. Jaina cursed, grabbed Thrall, and pulled them both behind a pair of rotting barrels while the rest of the group dove for the nearest cover.

“Hopefully they didn’t see us,” Thrall whispered.

“Here’s hoping,” Jaina replied.

“Is your spell still working?” Thrall asked.

Jaina nodded. “But it isn’t perfect,” she said.

They watched and waited, as the siege engine rolled laboriously past. In the distance, they could hear their comrades fighting, probably dying. Overhead, the Vindicaar blocked out part of the sun.

The last of the siege engine’s escort was passing by, and Jaina was just about to sigh in relief, when it stiffened and turned towards them. An ululating cry sounded.

“Fuck,” Jaina swore, as the rest of the escort turned toward them. Her SI-7 agents came to flank her, and the Grunts moved up beside Thrall. Taelia, she could see, was scaling the building, no doubt looking for a perch to attack from.

The escort charged forward.

Jaina called down a blizzard, while Thrall cast forth chains of lightning.

Taelia somersaulted from the roof into the midst of the horrors, blades slashing into putrid, malformed flesh.

The escort fought fiercely, but unskilled. They had greater numbers, however, and soon the Grunts had fallen, having charged into the fray with almost as much reckless abandon as the monsters they had faced. Taelia weaved between their attacks, but caught blows that slowed her down, until at last one had caught her head, and with a sickening crack, she went down.

“No!” Jaina cried, and swung her staff around her. Her SI-7 agents moved to barricade her, but with a keening wail, the horrors brought them down one by one. She was out of time.

Jaina concentrated with all her will. Her blizzard still bit into their flesh - ice, after all, was her specialty - and with that in hand, she focused on another, less practised spellwork. A firestorm appeared, a tornado of flame that spun wildly across the field of battle, and the keening of her enemies ratched up into a crescendo as they fell before her fury.

Thrall called upon the lightning one more time, and it streaked through those of the escort that remained standing. He stumbled toward Jaina, and placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s over,” he said, and Jaina lowered her staff at last.

She looked over the battlefield, that only a short minute ago had been empty. “Taelia!” she gasped, and rushed to her side.

Taelia’s mouth worked to make words. “Lord Admiral,” she gasped at last.

“You need help,” Jaina said.

“The others are dead,” Thrall said morosely.

“It was... a pleasure...” Taelia coughed, and blood splattered across her lower lip.

“None of that,” Jaina said, as she held out her hand, and arcane energy danced in circular orbits above it. “Up to the Vindicaar with you.” She pressed her hand to Taelia’s chest, and in a burst of light, Taelia vanished.

“Just you and me, then,” Thrall said.

“Just you and me,” Jaina replied. “Like you said, we have a mission.” She looked up towards the town centre. “Let’s be on with it.”

* * *

“What happened?” Y’mera demanded.

“Unknown,” Jaelaana reported. “The explosives appear to have been destroyed.”

“Did your Warframes somehow make it in time?” Anduin asked.

“No,” Y’mera said, as she shook her head. “Someone else must have done it. But who? Our ground forces aren’t near that position.”

“Archmage, the Warframe Protector reports that the enemy aerial fighters have been eliminated. Warframes have departed for landing waypoints, to support the Alliance and Horde assaults.”

“Excellent,” Y’mera said. “Begin targeting the larger siege equipment N’zoth has brought to bear. Open fire as soon as targets are locked.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jaelaana said, and turned her attention to her controls. A readout flickered to life in her peripheral vision. “Medical reports casualties have begun to arrive,” she reported.

Anduin frowned. “I wasn’t expecting anything beyond first aid to be going on at the beachheads yet,” he said.

“Apologies,” Jaelaana said. “A casualty, singular. From the Mord’rethar strike team. They’re stabilising her now.” In the forward window, weapons fire began striking the siege towers N’zoth had besieging the two ground assaults.

“Her?” Anduin asked, sudden concern lacing his voice. “Jaina?”

Y’mera stalked over to look at Jaelaana’s console. “They report she identified herself as Taelia Fordragon,” Y’mera said. “No data on the rest of the strike team.” She turned to the forward window, and examined the ongoing battle. N’zoth was running out of siege towers, finally, and it looked like the ground assaults would be able to push forward finally-

As Y’mera considered the battle, a translucent, lurid purple bubble flared up around Ymirheim, neatly containing the city and the Alliance and Horde assaults within it.

“The shield is back,” Anduin noted. “That’s not good.”

Y’mera turned to Jaelaana. “Fire all batteries. I want to try to bring that shield down.” She turned back to the window in time to see fire strike out, and dissipate against the skin of the bubble.

“Keep firing,” Y’mera ordered.

* * *

Jaina and Thrall crept around a broken fenceline, rounded the structure, and reached the growth at the centre of Ymirheim.

N’zoth’s new body.

Tentacles flailed into the sky from the bulbous mass, in a way that seemed like agitation, and eyes opened and closed across its surface. Jaina approached warily, alert for any sign of detection.

Thrall stood guard as Jaina closed on the central horror of Ymirheim. No patrols or shambling monsters approached. Above, Warframes from the Vindicaar streaked toward the Alliance and Horde assault forces, bringing their Vindicators to the fight.

“It feels... familiar,” Jaina said. “This is Shadowlands stuff - the nature of what it’s crafted here.”

Thrall looked over to her, then his gaze snapped up as the town was encased in a bright purple bubble, just like the one that had been over Stormwind.

“Jaina,” Thrall called out in warning.

“I see it,” Jaina replied. “It’s... not just to contain the battle. It’s tied to what it’s doing here. The... ascension, that talking knife called it?” She turned to Thrall. “I can feel  _ something _ in the energy flow with this. That bubble... it’s for attenuation.” She turned to look back toward Mord’rethar, the way they’d come. “We need to get to the bubble. I know what to do.”

Thrall gestured the way. “After you,” he said.

* * *

Saurfang saw the last of the siege towers felled by fire from the Vindicaar.  _ I could get used to air support that doesn’t crash when you need it, _ he thought. “Push forward!” he cried, pointing in the direction of the squad Tyrande had led to their rescue. Grunts charged forward, hurtling through the ranks of monsters N’zoth had brought to bear, cutting them down as they passed, surrounding Tyrande’s sentinels and taking the pressure off them.

Saurfang strode over to the Night Elf priestess, the sounds of battle all around. “I appreciate the timely rescue,” he said.

Tyrande looked at him a long moment, then sighed. “You are welcome, orc. Do not mistake this for forgiveness.”

Saurfang shook his head. “Never,” he said.

“We must return to our assault, now that you are secured here,” she stated.

Saurfang looked over towards the Alliance assault, then back to his own forces. At last, he looked back at Tyrande. “If you can stomach our existence for a while longer, I have an idea,” he said.

Tyrande smiled, showing her teeth. “Tell me, and we shall see,” she said.

* * *

“Bring up the next line!” Genn roared, as he took another shot with the dwarven-made rifle he’d been handed after the last gun ran out of ammunition. He was too busy shooting to bother with reloading.

He was just starting to wonder what dire fate had befallen Tyrande when she’d  _ insisted _ on following orders to save the savages on the northern front when he saw her riding back towards them, with half the Horde assault forces hot on her heels.

Genn sighed. Clearly they’d turned on her, like the animals they were. He  _ had _ warned her. He waved to some of his reserve forces. “Along the left flank!: he ordered. “Prepare to fire on my command!”

He waited for Tyrande to reach them. In the distance, the last of N’zoth’s damnable siege towers collapsed in fire from above.

She rode up to him in a hurry. “Don’t shoot!” she shouted, just as Genn was yelling “Open fire!”

“What is the meaning of this?” Genn demanded.

“Don’t shoot,” Tyrande repeated. “The orc has a plan. Now that we’re in Ymirheim, a combined assault. He’s bringing his forces toward ours, and we should move toward them. From there, we can press into the town, together.”

“We don’t need them!” Genn cried. “We’re doing quite well, and with reinforcements flowing across the viaduct-”

He cut off, as around them, a purple barrier shimmered into place, containing all of Ymirheim - and cutting neatly across where the bridge landed onto the plateau.

“You were saying something about reinforcements, Genn?” Tyrande said archly.

Genn ground his teeth. “We move!” he shouted. “Toward the Horde forces!”

* * *

“The shield is holding,” Jaelaana reported from her station.

“Hold fire,” Y’mera said with a sigh. “We aren’t going to break through from out here.”

Anduin nodded. “If that shield is going to drop, it will have to be done by those already inside.”

* * *

“I can’t bring it down,” Jaina said, as she ran through the debris of the ruins of Ymirheim, Thrall right behind her. “But I can  _ interfere _ with what it’s doing.”

“What  _ is _ N’zoth doing?” Thrall asked.

“Like she said, apotheosis,” Jaina explained, zigzagging past a small building. “The bubble isn’t  _ just _ a shield, it’s a kind of attunement. A way to align his new body for entrance into the Shadowlands.” She shook her head. “I can’t explain it very well.”

“That’s alright,” Thrall panted. “I trust you.”

“We’re here,” Jaina said, the wall of the barrier flaring in purple before them. She raised a hand toward it. “It’s accelerating,” she said. “We’re almost out of time.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Thrall asked.

Jaina glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Protect me? This will take all my concentration.”

Thrall smiled back, and hefted Doomhammer over his shoulders. “Always,” he said.

Jaina turned her attention to the barrier, and began to  _ interfere _ with it’s attunement.

* * *

“Something is happening in the centre of town,” Anduin said.

Y’mera turned to look at the monstrous growth in the centre of town. It was difficult to see through the distortion of the bubble, but it did seem to be shuddering a lot more than earlier. Tentacles stretched from it toward the sky, as if trying to pull it down.

“I don’t like the look of that,” she said.

* * *

“I never thought I’d see the day where we’d fight together,” Saurfang said.

“I have  _ dreaded _ this day, Orc,” Genn snarled. “But circumstances have forced my hand.”

“Don’t worry. You can go back to hating us after today - if it means we live long enough to see tomorrow.”

Genn glared at the High Warlord.

“Something is happening,” Tyrande suddenly said.

“There, in the centre of town,” Talanji added.

Saurfang and Genn turned to look. There were plumes of purple fire venting in different directions, and a mass of tentacles reached for the sky.

“That’s the thing - the  _ body _ \- that N’zoth was growing, isn’t it?” Saurfang asked.

Before anyone could answer, a keening noise sounded, and the new body of N’zoth began to rise into the air, slowly at first, but accelerating.

“That isn’t good,” Tyrande said.

“No,” said Saurfang. “I’d say we’re well and truly fucked.”

* * *

“Jaina, N’zoth’s taking off,” Thrall said urgently.

“You're not helping,” Jaina said in a singsong voice.

Thrall gritted his teeth. N’zoth was rising fast. Soon it would be-

“It’s done,” Jaina said, with weary satisfaction, and a brighter purple burst of light flashed through the barrier from her hands.

“What’s done?” Thrall asked, as he looked first to Jaina and then back to the rising N’zoth.

The tentacles were thrusting in all directions now, and its horrible eyes all looked skyward. It rose, faster and faster, touched the edge of the bubble-

And a horrible, ear-rending scream sounded, unlike anything Thrall had ever heard, pushed at them like a physical force, rage and terror and undoing all in a cacophonous noise that rattled inside his head. When he looked around, he saw that the bubble was gone.

Jaina looked at Thrall smugly. “N’zoth’s still going to the Shadowlands... but it won’t be a God there. Not now.”

She dusted off her hands. “ _ That’s _ what’s done.”

Thrall nodded. “I hope that’s enough,” he said with a heavy heart.

* * *

The sky held a furious Old God, rocketing wildly towards the rupture that would take it across the skein of reality to the Shadowlands, on the day Sylvanas Windrunner stood on the lonely snow-drenched plateau of Icecrown Citadel, without even a coat.

She had seen the bubble over Ymirheim flare moments before N’zoth’s ascent, and she knew that the others had succeeded. N’zoth would be a god no more.

Sylvanas smiled, sharp and nasty, and turned into smoke.

She cut a neat intercept course across the bleeding sky, and slammed hard into the new body of N’zoth. Another awful keening wail sounded, and N’zoth was sent into a tumble, turning over and over as it rose, now off-course as well.

Sylvanas ricocheted off of N’zoth, and rose upward. A trail of purple smoke followed her, marking her path. Straight into the rupture, and then... gone.

In an uncontrolled tumble, N’zoth let out one last reality-rending roar of impotent rage. This close to the rupture, but knocked off course - the conflux of energies was simply too much for his form.

N’zoth’s body was rent asunder, and fell piece by tattered piece from the sky.

* * *

The last minute had been a flurry of activity outside.

“Can someone tell me what just happened?” Y’mera demanded.

“Working on it,” Jaelaana reported tersely.

“I think we might have won,” Anduin said. “Or lost.”

“The difference rather matters!” Y’mera snapped.

“First time fighting off an apocalypse?” Anduin asked mildly. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Reports from the ground assaults, Archmage,” Jaelaana interrupted. “N’zoth’s forces have all collapsed at the same time the bubble dropped.”

“And the strike team?” Y’mera asked.

“Nothing yet,” Jaelaana said.

* * *

“We did it?” Thrall asked.

“We did it,” Jaina said, her hand shielding her eyes as she looked upward.

“What was that purple smoke that hit it at the end?”

Jaina sighed. “A problem for tomorrow,” she said. “Come on. I think some people are going to be happy to hear our report.”


	17. Chapter 17

Aludrassil was as pretty as ever, as they sat around the conference table once more. The Vindicaar had offered transit for as many as could fit from Icecrown, to spare the mages for work other than portals, and it has been quickly accepted. Today, the Horde and Alliance contingents had come together to wrap everything up.

“-so, having been knocked off course so close to the rupture, the confluence of energies from the other side, leaking into Azeroth, tore it apart,” Jaina said. “Stripped of the attunement it required, N’zoth would have been unable to stop it.” 

“Could the Old God have survived?” Anduin pressed.

“It’s unlikely N’zoth will recover in any meaningful way. It’s safe to conclude that the Old God is, indeed, dead,” Jaina replied. “At least as much as the others we’ve contended with in the past.”

“Scratch another one off the list,” Saurfang said with a grin.

“We saw something strike into N’zoth - the very thing that knocked it off course, I believe,” Tyrande said. “What was that?”

Jaina sighed. “I believe that was the escaped Sylvanas Windrunner.”

Genn sat up straight. “Sylvanas?” he snarled. “Did you know about this?”

“No, Genn,” Jaina said wearily. “I didn’t know she was there. I didn’t know what she was doing, or planning. In a way, we owe her a debt - if she had not knocked N’zoth off course, it would have entered the Shadowlands. Not in a position of power, not as a ruling god, true - but I have no idea what it would have been able to accomplish, even still.”

“Still, I have my doubts that she acted for the greater good,” Thrall said.

Jaina nodded. “I suspect she had her own purposes in doing what she did. She appears to have left for the Shadowlands in N’zoth’s place. Is that good or ill for us?” She shrugged in frustration. “I don’t know.” The admission aggrieved her.

There was a thoughtful silence, which Anduin broke with a cough. “Speaking of escapees,” he began.

“This’ll be good,” Saurfang muttered.

“Shush,” Thrall chastised him quietly.

Anduin continued. “It appears that Xal’atath, the woman who provided what, in hindsight, was surprisingly accurate information, escaped from confinement some time before the battle began.” He spread his hands before him. “We don’t know how, or where she went, or what she’s doing.”

“Her information was good,” Thrall said. “I’m not aware of her causing us harm during the battle. Perhaps we can have hope that she does not mean us harm?”

“Just another problem for tomorrow,” Jaina said.

“Like the broken sky?” Tyrande asked.

Jaina nodded. “Yes. Sylvanas, Xal’atath, the rupture - I submit that these are problems for another time. I for one have no idea right now what to do about any of them - but tomorrow is another day, and it’s been an exhausting week.”

“I don’t suppose anyone else has any solutions that spring to mind?” Anduin asked mildly.

The resounding silence answered.

“Let’s not forget that we’ve saved all of Azeroth this last week,” Thrall said. “We’ve accomplished much.”

“Indeed,” Anduin said. “The world is safe from N’zoth once more. Thank you - all of you, from  _ both  _ factions - for your work during this time. Is there any other business?”

“No,” said Tyrande after a moment.

“No,” Saurfang added.

“Then I wish you all a good night.” Anduin rose, and left the room, followed by some. Others lingered.

“So, it’s tomorrow, or close enough,” Genn said, as he stalked up to Saurfang.

The High Warlord nodded. “Indeed,” he agreed. “You can hate us Orcs again.”

“Indeed I can!” Genn proclaimed. “And indeed I shall.”

“What was the term - ‘savages’, I think?” Saurfang said.

“I doubt you do,” Genn replied. “Think, that is.”

Saurfang smiled grandly. “You can say what you want, Genn. I know, and you know, the truth of what happened out there.” His grin grew as he noticed those who remained straining to listen in.

“What?” Genn said in honest confusion. “What ‘happened’?”

“Oh yes,” Saurfang said, and waggled his eyebrows. “I saved your life.” He grabbed the drink he’d brought in and walked from the room.

Genn spluttered incoherently. “You- What- I-  _ You did nothing of the sort! _ ” he cried, giving chase. “You take that back  _ immediately! _ ” His objections trailed off into the night.

Thrall watched Genn in case of his High Warlord, and did his best not to laugh. When he turned back to the room, it was to find that Tyrande had sought him out.

“High Priestess,” Thrall greeted her.

“Warchief,” Tyrande said, then took a deep breath. “It is no secret that I am quite angry with your peoples,” she began.

Thrall nodded. “Not without cause, to my great regret.”

“You have already acknowledged the crimes of the Horde against me and mine in this,” Tyrande allowed. “I do not know if Saurfang has discussed the battle with you.”

Thrall frowned. “Not in much detail, no.”

Tyrande nodded. “I took a handful of sentinels to bring down the siege towers assaulting his - your - forces,” she said.

“I see. Thank you, High Priestess. That can’t have been easy for you.”

Tyrande stared at him a long moment. “It was our orders,” she said simply. “But it pushed me into a situation where I had to fight for, fight  _ with _ , the Horde. I cannot forgive you, or your people.”

“I don’t expect you to-”

“But I have been angry. Terribly angry. Furious.” Tyrande took another deep breath. “I will work on it. Keep doing as you have, Warchief Thrall. You and your people have shown that I should not be so angry.”

“I’ll do my best, High Priestess,” Thrall said.

Tyrande nodded, then left.

Thrall looked around. Only he and Jaina were left.

“Taelia’s going to be alright,” Jaina said after a moment. “I checked in on her on the way here. She needs a week or two, but she’ll be on her feet soon enough.”

Thrall sighed, relieved. “That’s good. One less to worry about.”

Jaina nodded her agreement, then reached for Thrall’s hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Thrall followed her out, onto the cobbled streets of Aludrassil, and let her lead them back to her rooms.

“We did it,” Jaina said. “We saved the world again.”

“We did,” Thrall agreed. “We’re stronger together than we are apart.”

“Hmm,” Jaina mused, and looked over her shoulder at him with a sultry glance. “The factions, or you and I?”

“Both,” Thrall said, truthfully. “Before the battle, I said all I wanted was to spend the day with you,” he began.

Jaina raised an eyebrow at him, and smiled. “I do believe you’re right,” she said.

“I don’t know about you, but I checked my schedule, and I have nothing but ‘Jaina Proudmoore’ pencilled in for at  _ least  _ the next week.”

“Is that so?” Jaina asked, and turned to face him, snapping her fingers in a subtle burst of arcane magic. The fasteners on her corset flew undone, and the garment fell to the floor. “Planning to do me for the whole week, huh?”

Thrall stared at her, stunned for a moment by her beauty. Jaina took advantage of the moment to stride toward him, and to press her hand down the front of his trousers, then slide her palm against his shaft. He twitched against her touch.

“It seems,” Thrall said, his hands reaching for her hips and tugging her body against his own, “that you might have had a similar idea.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jaina replied. “I think  _ I _ was planning to do  _ you _ , instead.”

They grinned wickedly at each other, then Jaina gasped in pleased shock as he lifted her, and carried her to bed.

The night was everything they could have ever dreamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
